The Tennis Game
by sentient1212
Summary: Jack faces one of his greatest crises, and is faced with the greatest trauma of his life.


The Tennis Game - Chapter 1

"That was out!" Jack protested, laughing. "It wasn't even close!"

"You're right, it was nowhere near the line!" Barbara called back, laughing too. "It was in by at least a foot!"

They grinned at each other, wickedly. Jack was a stronger tennis player, of course, but Barbara had a lot of finesse shots, and she was good enough to beat him sometimes. She wondered occasionally if he let her win, but he was too competitive for that, and besides, he knew she'd really let him have it if he did. They were both determined to win; in their lines of work, losing was an option neither could accept, and that carried over into their private lives. Jack conceded the point and Barbara won the game. But she lost the next one, and with it the set. They both decided they'd had enough, and as they walked off the tennis court Jack put his arm around her. He always liked to keep her close. Then he knew she was safe.

They were sharing a private moment even while surrounded by the people on the other courts. They were very deeply in love, and it didn't matter where they were or who they were with, their tenderness towards each other was always there

They'd both played for their college tennis teams, Jack for UCLA and Barbara for Stanford. Both were good, solid players, but nowhere near good enough to even consider turning pro. Jack looked again at his petite, dark-haired wife, now in the fifth month of her pregnancy, and smiled. Looking at her always made him smile. He'd found a happiness he hadn't thought he deserved, and would never have again.

Barbara's doctor had urged her to keep playing tennis, despite Jack's misgivings. "She's always been active, Jack. I wouldn't advise her to dive for shots, but other than that there's no reason why she can't continue to play. Or to swim and snorkel either, for that matter. I told her not to scuba dive for the time being because the pressure difference might have an effect. But other than that, sports are good for her. And she's got too much energy to sit still. Not that you could ever get her to do that!" Lainie smiled at Jack affectionately. She knew how much he loved her old college roommate and best friend. But she also knew that Jack had had more than his share of sorrow, and she understood his need to protect Barbara. "By the way," she added, "sex is a must!"

As they left the tennis courts, the question was what to do for dinner. They hadn't made plans for that Saturday night. They'd been apart for two weeks and they needed the time together. This time it was Barbara who'd been away. She'd had to go to Denver to try a case and had only gotten back the day before. She'd resisted going in to her office to see what work had piled up in her absence. There would be time to do that after the weekend. She needed the time with Jack, and he needed to be with her.

They decided on pizza and an early movie. As they drove home to shower and change, she told him that she had another upcoming trial, but this one would be in LA. At first Jack had been amazed by the time she spent getting ready for her trials as well as actually being in the courtroom, but she'd explained to him, quoting one of her professors, that cases are won or lost in preparation. He'd seen it first-hand when she'd fought to free him from prison, so he accepted the late hours when she was getting ready for a case even before she walked into court. He remembered all the work she had done for him, all the trips to the prison, the hours going over and over what had happened with the Salazars and the virus, the long meetings with witnesses after first having to cajole them to cooperate. He remembered, with relief and gratitude, how she had put it all together. It had taken months for her to win his freedom, but he was here now, with her, and that would never change. Although all her traveling meant that she'd often be away from him, he understood. Her growing reputation had gotten her clients all over the country, and that meant traveling. At least she won't be away for this one, he thought gratefully. He was jealous of her clients, he admitted to himself ruefully. It seemed they got to spend more time with her than he did. But it took a lot of time to prepare ops, too, he recognized; he'd never send agents into the field until he'd analyzed and prepared for every possibility. So field ops aren't just like military missions, he mused. Courtroom battles are the same. It helped him understand and accept Barbara's long hours.

Although Jack was now the Director of Field Operations for all of CTU, his traveling had not really decreased from the days when he'd been a field agent himself. The difference was that now he worked almost exclusively out of an office and mostly traveled to other CTU offices around the country, but sometimes he still went overseas to supervise the ops he planned. Because of his executive position he didn't go into the field himself anymore as an agent. Barbara knew Jack sometimes, often, really, was frustrated that he no longer was in the thick of things, and he hated the idea of sending his agents - he thought of them that way - into danger. He had always felt that he shouldn't ask others to take risks he wouldn't take himself, but he knew, when he considered the situation realistically - and since his days in prison he was even more of a realist - that his presence in the field would only hamper a mission and might endanger his agents. He recognized that he didn't have the abilities and the quickness he used to have, mainly because of the injuries he'd sustained over his long career and in prison, and his advancing age, which hit him harder than anything. He was forced to acknowledge this to himself, although he never admitted it to anyone else. His body had always obeyed him before, had never failed to respond to the demands he made upon it. That this had forever changed was something he couldn't accept, and it caused him to chomp at the bit when field ops were underway. But there was nothing he could do about it, and for Barbara's sake, even more than for his own, he was forcing himself to deal with it. Besides, he would soon be a father again. He wasn't going to make the same mistakes.

Nevertheless, Jack did travel often. When he and Barbara were both away at the same time, that was okay. But usually only one of them was gone at a time, and the one at home was always lonely. Whoever was out of town was often too busy to dwell on that, although they talked on the phone as often as they could. But at least Jack wasn't in the field now, unable to make a phone call because of the risk. The only impediment to their phone calls was their tight schedules, but they managed to make time to talk every evening. They needed to hear each other's voice.

Jack now understood the loneliness and worry Teri had experienced each time he had left on a mission, and there had been a lot of those. He hadn't realized just how difficult it was to be left home, alone. Although he wasn't afraid for Barbara's safety as Teri had been for his, he now knew what Teri must have gone through each time he was on an assignment and she couldn't talk to him for weeks at a time. She'd been forced to be an only parent too many times, and he could only be thankful that she'd handled things so well. He was proud of Kim, and he recognized that it was Teri's upbringing that had enabled - caused - his daughter to grow into the wonderful young woman she was.

While he was always busy at work, and deliberately stayed late when Barbara was away, he still came home to an empty house, and he hated it. But he would never ask Barbara to give up her career. She had worked hard to get where she was - one of the top trial lawyers in the country - and he knew how much she enjoyed doing what she did. He didn't know what they would do after the babies were born, but he was sure they would find something that worked. Barbara had talked about cutting back her practice and working out of the house while passing all but her local trial work to others. She wasn't going to be an absentee mom, and Jack was determined not to be an absentee dad this time around. He'd been given a second chance, and he wasn't going to blow it.

Jack had been curious, a little concerned he admitted to himself, about how Kim would take the news that she would have two younger brothers or sisters, or maybe one of each, but she'd laughed when they told her. Her baby, Robby, would be the nephew to aunts or uncles who were almost two years younger. She was happy for her dad, and for Barbara. Barbara hadn't tried to mother Kim and Kim was grateful for that. She saw how happy her dad was, and she was mature enough to accept Barbara and not resent her for usurping her mother's place. Like Jack, Kim had come to grips with Teri's death, and she realized that her dad deserved to be happy. The idea that her dad was having another baby, twins to boot, amused her. She couldn't wait to see how he would take to being a dad again.

Barbara and Jack had been stunned when Lainie had shown them two babies on the sonogram. After they got over their initial surprise they were thrilled. There weren't any twins in either of their families, but learning that they had made two babies was fantastic. It made Jack worry more about Barbara, of course, something that didn't seem possible, but Lainie reassured him that Barbara was young and healthy and there was no reason to expect any problems. Just relax, Lainie told him. Enjoy the anticipation. Barbara's fine. Jack was doing his best to follow the doctor's advice.

They were still wet from the shower they'd just taken as Jack gently lowered her onto the bed. Afterwards, she lay in his arms and he kissed the top of her head while she nuzzled against his chest. Jack drowsily thought he'd never been happier in his life.

They never made it to the movie.

It rained Sunday, which they spent mostly in bed. They read the newspapers and made love. They ate cold pizza and that evening went out for ice cream. Soon after they fell asleep.

Chapter 2

Monday morning they both left home at eight to go to work. Jack was on his way to CTU and Barbara was headed to court. They kissed as they left the house and waved good-bye from their cars. Neither was scheduled to go out of town, so for once they'd have a full week together after a wonderful weekend, with another great weekend to look forward to. Time together was something they always cherished, and something they never had enough of.

Several hours later Jack got a call from Linda Kramer, Barbara's secretary. "Jack, do you know where Barbara is?" she asked. "She's in court. Why?" Jack asked in response. "Because she's not in court, Jack," Linda told him with concern. "The judge's clerk just called me. She was due there at ten, but she never showed up."

Jack felt his chest tighten as he looked at his watch. It was eleven thirty. "She left hours ago, and she was going straight there," Jack said. "She should have been there by nine thirty. Have you tried her on her cell?"

"I've called three times, and left messages. The phone rings before it goes into answer mode, so I know it's on. She's just not answering," Linda replied.

Jack was on the floor in the bullpen, and he started accessing LAPD's traffic control center on the nearest computer. He was checking for reports of trouble on the freeways. "Traffic Control isn't reporting any major jams, and they're not showing any accidents on their information screens. Where the hell is she?" he asked rhetorically.

Tony was the head of the LA office of CTU, and he was walking by when he heard the last part of what Jack said. He walked over and asked, "Is there a problem, Jack?"

"Barbara's missing," Jack replied. He was ashen. The words sounded unreal to him.

"When did you last see her?" Tony asked. "This morning," was the reply. "We both left at eight. It doesn't take more than an hour, an hour and a half, tops, for her to get to court, Tony, even when the traffic's really bad. She was due there at ten. She never got there."

"Linda," Jack said into the phone. "They must know her at the courthouse. Did you check with the security officers there? Maybe they saw her."

"I called them just before I called you, Jack. They said they haven't seen her today," Linda said, sounding more worried. "Where could she have gone?"

Tony had turned to another computer, and was tapping the keys. "What kind of car does Barbara drive, Jack?" he asked. Jack responded, "A red 2003 Volvo convertible. Why?"

Tony typed something else on his keyboard. He turned to face Jack. "What's the license number?"

"Why?" Jack repeated. He didn't like what he heard in Tony's voice.

"The police found a red Volvo convertible abandoned, Jack. Under the 405 freeway. The license number is 873M257."

"That's her plate," Jack said, his mind racing. "But that's on the way to Encino. There's no way Barbara would go that way to court." Where the hell was she? Maybe she broke down, or ran out of gas, he said to himself. But why would the car be under the freeway? What would take so long? And that's not the route she takes to court. It was in the opposite direction. None of those explanations made sense.

"I'll call LAPD, Jack, to have them check the car." Tony was growing more concerned, but he didn't want Jack to know it. "It's probably just car trouble," he said for Jack's benefit. He had a sinking feeling that wasn't the case.

Jack listened in as Tony got LAPD traffic control on the phone. "We got a report of an abandoned car about an hour and a half ago. No one was in it, and we were just about to send out a tow. The car's registered to a Barbara Bauer. We called her house, but no one answered. We don't know if she was driving, or where she went," the officer on the other end said. "Is this somehow involved with CTU?" All of LA knew what CTU was. The whole country knew. The agency had become well-known, having gone from near-total obscurity to public fame for its work in foiling numerous terrorism plots. Most of that credit, the public now knew, belonged to Jack.

"No, it doesn't involve CTU officially, but the woman who's missing is married to one of our agents," Tony told him.

"Was the owner driving the car?" the officer asked. "Barbara Bauer?"

"Yes," Jack broke in. "My wife was driving her car. She never got to work."

"We'll send out a tow. We'll go over it and see if there's anything there that'll show what happened."

"I'll meet you at the car," said Jack. "Where under the freeway is it?"

Jack headed for his car as soon as he got the location. He pulled out of the garage, and cursed the traffic on the street. "Dammit!" he said. "Dammit!"

As he made his way toward the freeway, he tried to tell himself that there might be nothing wrong, that everything could be okay, but he knew that he was lying to himself. Something was very, very wrong. He wouldn't let himself think what it might be.

Jack got to Barbara's car at the same time a squad car and tow truck pulled up. Jack ran to the Volvo and yanked the door open. There was something on the steering wheel. Blood.

As he stared at the wheel his cellphone rang. He looked at the caller i.d. as he flipped it open. It was Barbara's number. "Thank God!" he said. "Where are you, Baby?"

"Where you'll never find her," came the reply in a deep male voice. Jack almost dropped the phone. "Who is this? Why are you on my wife's phone?"

"Because we have your wife, Mr. Bauer. And we want you to know it."

Jack closed his eyes as he sharply drew in breath. "Who is this?" he repeated. "What do you want? Whatever it is, I'll do. Just tell me where to meet you," he begged.

"We don't want anything from you, Mr. Bauer," came the reply, in what Jack recognized as a Middle Eastern accent. "We just want you to suffer."

Jack felt his heart miss a beat. "Whatever it is, your fight is with me. Not with my wife. I'll go with you. I won't fight you," he said, not knowing he was echoing words said years before.

"But we don't want you, Mr. Bauer. If we kill you, your suffering will end. If we kill your wife, you will suffer forever. And that's what we want, Mr. Bauer." The voice was pure evil.

Jack thought he would die. Anything happening to Barbara was too much to bear. "Please," he begged. "I'll do anything. Just don't hurt her."

"Your wife is very beautiful, Mr. Bauer, and we have been away from our wives for a long time. Maybe we will kill her. Maybe we will just keep her with us, for companionship. You will never know. You will spend the rest of your life not knowing. The man paused. "This time it will be you who suffers."

Unspeakable thoughts filled Jack's mind. "Your religion forbids harming innocents and non-combatants. My wife is both," Jack said, struggling to find words that might change what was happening. "You can't hurt her!"

"Your wife is an infidel, Mr. Bauer," the man replied. "My religion does not protect infidels."

Jack didn't know what else to say. How do you deal with someone so filled with hate? Jack had never understood hatred. In his work he always tried to be dispassionate. Emotion only clouded his thoughts. He had to keep himself cool in order to accomplish his missions. Hatred just got in the way. All of the missteps in Jack's career had been because of hate. So Jack struggled to keep his emotions at bay. But with Barbara at risk, they overwhelmed him.

He tried to keep control of his voice, which he knew was about to break. "Let me speak to her. Let me talk to my wife."

"All in good time, Mr. Bauer. If she's still alive, that is. You'll just have to wait. And suffer."

Jack was desperate. "Please, let me talk to her! I have to know she's alive!"

But the phone had gone dead.

The Tennis Game - Chapter 3

Jack stood next to Barbara's car and again saw the blood on the wheel. He had never known such fear, or such despair. Suddenly the officers saw Jack slump against the fender, and came closer. "Who called, Mr. Bauer?" one asked. "Who was on the phone?"

The question didn't penetrate. Jack continued to lean against the car and stare at the blood inside. He had to find her. What was he going to do?

The police put in a call to Tony Almeida and reported what they had heard from Jack's side of the conversation. Tony felt himself grow cold as he listened to what Jack had said. "Let me talk to him," Tony told the officer. "Just a minute," the cop replied.

"It's your office," the policeman said to Jack, offering him his phone. Jack looked at it like he'd never seen one before. His mind wasn't working. He was numb. "Sir," the cop tried again to get Jack to look at him. "They want to talk to you."

Jack dully took the phone. "Yeah," he said. "Jack, it's Tony," he heard. "I'm going to have the cops bring Barbara's car here to CTU. We'll go over it, and find something. We'll find her, Jack. Just hang in there."

Silently Jack handed the phone back to the officer, who quietly spoke with Tony. Then the officer said to Jack, "Mr. Bauer, we'll take you back to CTU. The tow truck will bring the car. We know you guys have better equipment than we do at our crime lab. Your people may be able to find something." The cop spoke with optimism he didn't feel. He knew Jack Bauer's reputation, for he had become a hero to the public when they learned about his missions. The cop knew Jack's work didn't involve nice people.

The tow truck attached the hitch to the Volvo as Jack got into the back seat of the LAPD patrol car. He was too shaken to drive. They headed to CTU.

Tony was waiting in the garage when they got there along with CTU's forensics people. They got to work taking prints, and looked for anything that might indicate what had happened. Tony got Jack to come inside and led him into his office. Michelle brought Jack some coffee.

"We've got all the trace equipment on line, Jack, to intercept the next call," Michelle told him. "Chloe and Adam and the rest of the technical staff have been briefed, and they're all set to go."

Jack nodded at what Michelle was saying, but he didn't really hear her. All he heard, over and over, was what the man had said to him.

As hours went by, Jack just sat in Tony's office. Tony brought him something to eat, but Jack didn't notice. There was nothing for him, or for anyone, to do. Forensics reported that the blood type was B negative, which Jack knew from Barbara's prenatal check-up was the same as hers. Lots of people are B negative, the lab tech had tried to tell him. But Jack wasn't buying it.

He waited, playing the conversation over and over in his head, trying to find some clue, anything that would provide a starting point for a search. He had repeated the conversation to Tony verbatim, something his training permitted him to do automatically. Tony couldn't meet his eyes as Jack repeated the man's statement about how beautiful Barbara was, and how his men were missing their wives. Tony knew that the words had had their desired effect. Jack was suffering as he had never suffered before. Inaction, and imagination, were killing him.

Thoughts of Teri, of her horrible death, kept running through his mind. Try as he might he couldn't banish them, couldn't block how he had let her down, how he had caused her death. All of the fear he had known that terrible day, when Teri and Kim had been kidnapped, when he had rescued them only to have them threatened again, to disappear again, to believe that Kim had been killed, came flooding back. He thought again of the death of the child Teri had been carrying. He couldn't re-live that pain. But now his babies were growing inside Barbara, and he was helpless, again, to save them.

He barely stirred when the lab technician came to tell them that there was nothing else in the car that provided a clue. A check of the scene turned up no physical evidence and no witnesses. Agents were questioning people along the route Barbara had taken from home, but they didn't know where she'd been kidnapped. They didn't know where the car had been grabbed. There was nowhere left to look.

All of the people at CTU knew what was happening. The new shift arrived and were quickly told what was going on, but no one from the day shift clocked out. All of them looked up to Tony's office from time to time, but all they saw was Jack sitting there in a daze, surrounded by Tony and Michelle. Their hearts went out to him. They knew that Jack was more than an agent. They had come to understand that the Superman of CTU was also a loving, sensitive man who had been to hell and back more than once, and they prayed for a good end to this nightmare. But no one believed it.

From time to time Jack tried calling Barbara's phone, but there was never an answer. He knew it was pointless to leave messages. The kidnappers wouldn't care what he said.

At five in the morning Jack's cellphone rang. It was Barbara's number again. "This is Bauer," he said. "What do you want?"

"Jack," he heard. "Jack, please help me!" Barbara's voice was weak, and she sounded terrified. "Please help me!"

"Barb, where are you? I'll come get you. Where are you?" Jack pleaded to know.

"I don't know, Jack! I'm in some sort of box, a crate. When I came to I was in here. It's pitch black in here, and I don't know how much air there is. I can hear the rain on the box. And water's seeping in." Barbara's voice was frantic.

"Can you hear anything else, Barbara?" Tony asked. They had the phone on speaker. "Any sounds, anything?"

"No, no, nothing. All I can hear is the rain, and the water coming into the box." Barbara sounded hysterical. Tony tried to calm her.

"We're tracing the call now, Barbara," he said. "Just stay on the line with us, and we'll find you."

They heard her sob. "Please, please help me! I'm going to die!"

Jack started to cry. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. For the first time in a crisis, he had nowhere to start. No thread to follow. There was nothing.

Tony picked up a cordless in his office and quietly called Chloe. When he saw her pick up on the floor below he asked quickly, "Anything? Are you getting anything, Chloe?"

"We're working as fast as we can, Tony. Adam and I are trying to trap the signal, but it takes time. If you stop interrupting we can work faster." She hung up the phone.

For the millionth time Tony wanted to wring Chloe's neck. When this was all over, he thought, he just might do it.

Tony looked at Jack, who was listening intently to Barbara. She was still crying. "Oh my God!" she wailed. "The battery's starting to die!"

"Hang up the phone, Baby. Hang up the phone! I'm sure they've trapped the signal by now. Save the battery. I'll call you back when we've got a fix on your location." He was staring at the speakerphone. The connection had ended. He realized with even more fear that he didn't know whether she had hung up, or if the battery was already dead. He didn't know if he'd ever talk to her again.

Chapter 4

"Adam, tell me you got something," Tony said into the phone. He didn't want to talk to Chloe again. "You must have the signal trapped," he echoed Jack. "You do, don't you?"

There was a pause. "Yeah, Tony," Adam finally replied. "We've got a trap, but it'll take some time to triangulate."

"Adam, there is no time. You have to do it now!" Tony had never been so adamant. He had a terrible feeling about where this would end.

All they could do was sit there. Jack was still in a daze, while Tony stared at Chloe and Adam and Michelle alternated looking at Jack and at Tony. None of them had ever felt so helpless. Jack was their friend as well as their colleague. Barbara was their friend now, too.

Tony thought of how diabolically clever Barbara's captors were. They knew exactly where Jack was vulnerable, and how to make him suffer the most. They had given Barbara her cellphone so that Jack would be haunted by her call. Clearly, they believed that it would be impossible to locate her, and they were probably right, Tony admitted to himself. Jack would spend the rest of his life not knowing if she had died, or if they had taken her to a place he could never find.

Tony's phone rang and he grabbed it. It was Adam. "We've got a rough fix, Tony. It's an area in East L.A.. We need another call to get a tight location."

"Jack, call Barbara," Tony commanded. "They've got her located in East L.A. Adam says they can get a tight fix from another call."

Jack grabbed his cellphone and dialed Barbara's number. One ring. Two rings. Three. Four. His heart stopped. On the beginning of the fifth ring, she answered. "Jack?" she pleaded. "Jack?"

It's me, Baby," he said. "We've got a fix on you. We know where you are. Just stay on the phone with me, and we'll come get you."

Barbara was struggling to breathe. She didn't know if it was because she was so frightened or because she was running out of air. It didn't matter. The water was rising in the box. She knew she was going to die.

"Talk to me, Baby. Say something. I'm coming to get you, Barb. We're on our way," Jack said, willing her to stay on the line. He and Tony were running for the garage along with two teams Tony had put on alert. They ran past Adam and Chloe, who continued to tap on their keyboards. The two computer whizzes murmured to each other as they worked, sharing data back and forth. Michelle was with them, and she struggled to restrain herself. She knew that anything she said would only provoke another tirade from Chloe and distract Adam. She waited as patiently as she could for them to get the precise location that she would relay to Jack and Tony.

"Got it!" Adam yelled. "She's there," he pointed to the screen. The coordinates he indicated were next to the freeway. He zoomed in on a satellite shot. There was a vacant lot that was part of a construction site. There were no structures around. But why would they leave her in the open like that? .

Michelle grabbed the radio. "All teams, go to Fullerton. Where Beach Boulevard intersects number 5. Repeat, Beach Boulevard and the number 5 freeway. All teams, go, go, go!"

The Tennis Game - Chapter 5

As the caravan of SUV's sped toward the location Tony called LAPD and alerted them. They said they'd have emergency services and an ambulance meet them at the scene. Jack prayed that there would be a need for an ambulance. That would mean that Barbara was alive.

As they sped across town Jack stared straight ahead. Tony couldn't even imagine what Jack must be thinking. It dawned on him that Jack was no longer on the phone with Barbara. "Why did you end the call?" Tony asked him.

"I wanted to save her battery, in case we need to call again. We don't know for sure where she is," Jack replied. It was his training talking. He was on autopilot.

When they got to the location their hearts sank. There was a huge vacant lot, with no sign of a crate. Adam and Chloe must have made a mistake.

Tony called them. When he got Adam on the phone he said, "Adam, are you sure of this location? There's nothing here. It's an industrial development site but they haven't started construction yet. It's a huge empty field, probably three full city blocks, but there's no box or crate."

"I'll check again, Tony," was Adam's reply. "Gimme a sec."

Tony held on, not imagining what could have gone wrong. With CTU's equipment their location fixes were always right on. The pause seemed endless until Adam spoke again. "There's a problem, Tony. Something distorted the signal we trapped. I'm not sure of the location now. Something's wrong."

"What do you mean 'wrong,' Adam? How can a triangulation be wrong? Didn't you trap the signal?

"Yeah, Tony, we got the trap. When I rechecked it now I saw that there's an echo. It's impossible to tell where the signal really came from."

"Put Chloe on," Tony directed. She picked up.

"I don't know what's going on," Chloe whined before Tony could say anything. "I've never seen this before. It doesn't make sense."

"Chloe, I don't understand." He repeated the question he'd asked Adam. "How can a triangulation be wrong? Where the hell is she? You've got to get that fix."

"I know what I have to do, Tony. I don't need you to tell me that."

"Chloe, for once lose your attitude. Just do your job!"

There was silence and Tony could picture Chloe's face. If she wasn't such a computer whiz he would have fired her long ago. She'd never learned how to work and play well with others. But she was a genius, one of the best computer geeks he'd ever met, and CTU needed her. But Tony really didn't mind when Chloe went on vacation. Nobody did.

"It's almost like...." Chloe's voice trailed off. "Almost like what, Chloe?" Tony practically shouted. "Almost like what?"

"It's like the signal is coming from underground, Tony. Like the phone is buried."

Tony couldn't follow the thought. If the phone was buried, how could Barbara be talking on it?

"Oh my God," Tony said aloud. "My God!"

Jack looked at Tony. He'd been staring at the vacant field. "What, Tony?"

"The phone is underground, Jack. They must have buried it."

Jack couldn't get his mind around what Tony had said. Why would they bury the phone? Barbara was talking on it. So how could it be buried?

The truth hit him in the stomach like an anvil. Barbara was buried alive! My God, how could they find her?

Chapter 6

"That's why there's water coming into the box, Jack." Tony spelled it out. "The rain is soaking into the ground."

"Chloe, even if the signal's underground, can you get a fix on it? Are we in the right place?" Tony asked into his cell. "You've got to get a fix on it. Otherwise there's no chance."

Tony's last words penetrated Jack's fog. Hearing Tony say 'no chance' drove the blood from his head. He seemed about to faint.

As they waited for Chloe to answer they took another look around. They'd had rain for two solid days, and the field was muddy. Even with the emergency lights there was no way they could see if a hole had been dug and refilled. There was no way to tell where they should dig.

Barbara has to lead us to her, Jack thought. We've got to be able to find out from her where she is. The impossibility of the situation hit him, and his knees gave way. One of the men from the search teams caught him. They led him to one of the patrol cars where they put him in the back seat, with the door still open and his feet on the ground. He could still hear what was going on.

Tony looked as helpless as Jack felt. The rain was starting to come down even harder, and the already dreary day was getting darker. It was hard to tell that the sun had even risen. Where the hell do we start? Tony thought. His thoughts mirrored Jack's. Only Barbara could tell them where she was. But how can she? In a box, buried underground, she couldn't possibly guide them to her.

"Form a grid," Jack said. He was thinking out loud. "Have people with air horns at each corner. We'll have Barbara tell us which horn is loudest, and try to narrow it down from there."

Jack didn't even realize he'd taken charge of the situation, but Tony ordered the teams to do what Jack said. It was the right approach.

When the agents were in position Jack worriedly called Barbara again. He'd been afraid she couldn't answer. "Sweetheart, we're here. We're going to get you out soon. We're using air horns. Tell me when you hear one."

When the horn from the third corner of the grid blared, Barbara said, "I hear that! I hear it!" Tony ordered the men to converge there while taking turns sounding their horns. With each blast Barbara identified which one was loudest, and the team slowly narrowed in. Finally they reached an area that was roughly the size of a football field, still a large area to search. And the cellphone had gone dead.

The agents started walking slowly across the area. It was forty minutes before one of them tripped over a pipe sticking up, about 2 inches above the mud. She called out to the others, "Over here! There's something here!"

Everyone ran over, and they began to dig. Digging through the mud took forever. Jack kept trying to call Barbara on the phone, but there was no answer. He called down the pipe to her, but she didn't respond. God, let her be alive, he prayed. Let her be alive.

As they shoveled, mud and water rushed back in to fill the space they had just cleared. They were making little headway. Eventually, though, after what seemed endless, a shovel hit something solid. The pipe led down to it.

They finally managed to dig deep enough to see the top of a box. Jack and Tony jumped down into the hole and pulled the cover off. The box was empty.

Chapter 7

They all stood staring at the empty crate. Rationality came to Tony first. Where the hell is she? he thought. What have those bstards done with her?

Tony forced himself to look at Jack, who just stood there in the rain, staring at the box. Tony couldn't imagine what Jack must be thinking. The reality was too terrible.

As he tried to gather his wits around him Tony knew he had to take charge. For all that Jack had seemed to be in command, he was unable to do anything now but stand there. Jack wasn't the only one who felt helpless, but Tony had to do something. They had to find her.

"Look, people. She's got to be around here. We've triangulated her call to this location, and no one's been here since we arrived. They didn't have time to dig her out before we got here. So she's got to be in this field."

Baker said, "Tony, without communication with her, there's no way to cover this entire lot, at least not in the time we have left. You said she sounded like she was running out of air, or the box was filling with water, or both." He said this quietly to Tony. There was no point in Jack overhearing. He was in enough pain.

"I know," Tony replied. "But there has to be a way to find her, and quickly." He lapsed into silence. The only sound was the steady rain, and a giant sob from Jack. No one turned to look at him. There was nothing any of them could say. Tony shared everyone's feeling of hopelessness, but he had to take charge and come up with something.

"Let's look at this logically, people. We know from tracking her call that she's here. There's no router in the box, and she felt and heard water seeping in. That means that she really is underground." Tony didn't want to say 'buried alive,' although that was what all of them were thinking. The euphemism he used was bad enough. "So she's got to be someplace in this area."

Baker was insistent. He wasn't challenging Tony's authority, he was trying to get him to organize something. Anything. There couldn't be much time left. "But how do we search, Tony? We need a plan."

Tony remained silent. He was trying to think, but nothing was coming to him. Finally it was Jack who spoke. "Call Adam back. Tell him what we've found. Have them re-check the triangulation. Have them look for any indication that the bstards were using a router or a splitter. We can't be sure there wasn't any."

Tony pulled out his cell and immediately gave the order. Adam started to say that they were sure of the location they'd sent, but Tony cut him off. "Just do it, okay? Let's not have any interference from egos. Do it now!"

"Look, everyone, I'll take any suggestions. Anything you've got," said Tony to the agents around him. "Forget the chain of command. Tell me if you've got any ideas." There was silence. Not one of the forty agents could think of anything to do. All they could think of was the empty box in the ground.

It seemed interminable until Tony's phone rang. "Tony, there is a router. We've started a trace." "How long, Adam?" Tony asked. "We're running out of time." We may already be out of time, he admitted to himself. My God, poor Jack. He'll never get over it if we lose her.

Tony started to say that there was no router in the crate, but he stifled the thought. Instead he asked Adam, "Is it possible that the router is where Barbara is, and not in the empty box? Can a router be so close to the phone?"

There was more silence as Tony waited for Adam to speak again. Finally, he heard, "Yes. The router can be hooked right up to the phone. And the router didn't send the signal more than 50 feet from where you are. We're sure of that. It's definitely there, Tony. There was only one router. The signal wasn't relayed more than 50 feet."

Tony shouted so the others could hear him over the increasingly heavy rain. "She's here. She's definitely here, within 50 feet. We have to keep looking. Look for another pipe, anything protruding from the ground."

The agents fanned out in a widening circle. The closer together they stayed, the more likely they wouldn't miss anything. But as the circle grew, so did the circumference of the search, and that meant more space between agents. They had to search every inch of mud. And that took time.

They extended the search out for 100 feet, twice as much as Adam had said, but still they found nothing, so they turned around and did the search in reverse. They ended up at the place where they began, but there was no pipe, no indication that a hole had been dug. The group was totally silent. Any vestige of hope had faded. They couldn't find her, and probably never would.

Chapter 8

Jack had remained at the mud pit where they'd found the empty box. He was in his own world, detached from the reality of the situation he knew he couldn't do anything about. The realization, the recognition that he'd lost her hadn't yet sunk in. He was too numb for that.

Part of him had heard Tony's directions but they didn't fully penetrate. The unbidden thought, she's gone, she's gone, played over in his mind. He couldn't accept the import of the words.

As Jack stood there more mud oozed into the hole they'd dug. Jack automatically shifted his footing to keep his balance, and his foot hit something hard, right next to the hole they'd dug. After a second Jack turned a flashlight into the hole. There was something else there. A tiny part of it had been uncovered when the mud shifted.

He let out a cry and frantically started digging. Tony turned to him, thinking that Jack had lost his mind. He came over to try to soothe his friend when Jack said, "There's something here, Tony. Something hard. Help me!"

Tony's flashlight played on the spot. A small piece of something showed. Oh, my God, he thought. Oh, my God!

Tony grabbed another shovel and dug as quickly as he had the first time. Others came over and pitched in, but they had the same problem as before. For each shovelful, mud oozed in to fill the space. It seemed like they would never get there. Finally, they uncovered another box, smaller than the first, which had started to cave in. Jack and Tony repeated their action. They jumped into the hole and pried the cover off.

Barbara was inside, naked and unconscious and almost covered by water. Tony draped his raincoat over her while Jack cradled her. The ambulance pulled up, and the stretcher was carried over.

Tony gently took Barbara from Jack's arms and lifted her up to the attendants. They put her on the gurney and quickly loaded her into the ambulance. Jack jumped in after them. He wasn't letting her out of his sight.

As the ambulance pulled out, one of the attendants felt for a pulse while the other fitted an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. When Jack saw the inside of the mask fog up, he started to cry. She was alive.

Chapter 9

She regained consciousness two days later, after six hours of surgery in which doctors had operated and removed her spleen and a kidney that all the kicking and punching had caused to hemorrhage. They had reinflated the lung that a broken rib had punctured, and she was breathing more easily. In all, she had come through her ordeal more unscathed than anyone could have hoped. But that was only physical. The emotional damage was incalculable.

Even though she'd come out of the anesthesia Barbara was totally unresponsive. All she did was stare at something no one else could see. All Jack could do was sit at her bedside, talking to her, reassuring her, and praying that she would recover. Day after day she lay in the hospital, her eyes open, fixed straight ahead, not responding to anything, or anyone. The doctors had explained to Jack that her unresponsiveness was a defense mechanism, that her conscious brain had shut itself down while her unconscious mind was struggling to deal with the unbearable trauma. While the broken bones and bruises had started to heal, the horror of her ordeal remained.

While Barbara lay in the bed Jack consulted with doctors and rape counselors. They told Jack that rape victims always blame themselves. They all felt that what had happened to them was somehow their fault. If only they hadn't walked down that street. If only they hadn't left the window open. If only they'd fought harder.

Jack was overcome with guilt. It was his work that had caused this. He'd been selfish when he'd married her. He had naively put his needs first, let himself believe that he'd dealt with all of his past enemies. But his hubris had put her in danger. This was all his fault.

The psychiatrist tried to explain to him that his feelings of guilt would only impede Barbara's recovery. "Guilt accomplishes nothing," she said. She had a lot of experience treating victims of rape, and Jack had been told that she was one of the best. "If you blame yourself, Barbara will only blame herself more. She'll never blame you. She'll feel that if you believe you could have done something, then there must be something that she could have done. If you feel guilty because you married her, she'll only feel rejected. So if you want to help her, you have to get her to concentrate on adjusting and coping, not on self-blame. You both have to learn to accept what happened, and go on from there." After a pause she said, "I'm not saying it will be easy. God knows, it'll be one of the hardest things you'll ever have to do. But that's the only chance she has to recover."

As Jack sat with Barbara he thought about everything the doctor had said. He was a champion at guilt, he knew. All of his life he had blamed himself for everything. But the doctor was right. It had accomplished nothing. He thought again of that wonderful Saturday that was really just a few days ago, but which seemed to have happened in a different lifetime. That day, so relaxed, so loving, when nothing extraordinary had happened, had been one of the best of his life. He saw again in his mind the beautiful woman who had faced him across the net, determined to win. If only she can call on that same determination now, he thought. He remembered that she'd lost that tennis match, but he tried to put it out of his mind.

Nine days after she was rescued from the box in the ground Barbara blinked her eyes. She heard Jack talking to her, telling her how much he loved her, but she couldn't look at him. She closed her eyes. She was too ashamed.

He spoke to her, in a low, steady voice. "I love you, Baby. You're going to be fine," he said. "We're going to work through this. We're going to be okay." He repeated this over and over, like a mantra. He was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to convince her.

The doctor told Jack that he had to be patient, but that was becoming harder and harder for him. Barbara still wouldn't look at him although she was fully conscious now. But he wouldn't give up.

After three more days tears formed in her eyes. Jack moved from his chair and sat on the bed. He tried to take Barbara in his arms, but she pulled away. They both cried.

Chapter 10

It was another week before Jack could take her home, and in the meantime he never left her side. Barbara eventually was allowed out of the hospital bed to sit in a chair, but still she didn't speak and she wouldn't look at him. Tears constantly coursed down her face. She was inconsolable. The institutional green of the walls only made things more depressing, and even the flowers, the multitude of flowers sent by their friends and colleagues didn't lift the mood of despair that had settled over the room. She didn't want to watch television, and the books Jack brought her remained unread. She showed interest in nothing, including him. Friends who came to visit didn't elicit any response from her, either. Even if she acknowledged their presence with a brief look at them it was without any enthusiasm, and they would leave after only a few minutes. They all shared Jack's discouragement. There was no reason to think things would get any better.

The nurses would give Barbara sponge baths, her still-healing wounds requiring that they be kept dry. Even then she was listless, not responding when the nurses gently applied lotion to her back and limbs. Nothing provoked a response. It was as though Barbara the woman was gone. Only Barbara, the shell, remained.

Jack tried to tempt her with her favorite foods. The doctors had said that her internal injuries were healed enough to permit her to have regular food, and Jack wanted to see if he could get her to eat by giving her more than typical hospital fare. He brought her lobster bisque, something she always ordered when it was on the menu, but she wouldn't even taste it. Caesar salad and filet mignon also went untouched, and she wouldn't even try cheesecake, her favorite dessert. Jack's anguish increased. Nothing seemed to be getting through to her.

When she was discharged from the hospital it was with the understanding that Jack would take her to see the psychiatrist three times a week. Her failure to speak was due to shock, the doctor told him, and she believed frequent therapy would help. If anything can, the doctor thought. She didn't tell Jack that Barbara's condition might be permanent.

When they arrived home Jack helped her into the house and into bed. She was tired. The bedroom, so flooded with light, with its pale grey walls and mauve carperting, so inviting and comfortable, suddenly seemed dull and nondescript, to match her mood. The king-sized bed looked enormous with her tiny frame occupying so little of it. Ordinarily Jack and Barbara would sleep in the middle, their bodies intertwined. Now she was as far over to 'her' side as she could be, the middle having become a 'no man's land' that couldn't be traversed. Jack recognized that this was a kind of body language that was unmistakable. She couldn't stand to have him anywhere near her.

Nevertheless, he sat next to her, stroking her hair as she slept. He stayed there, watching her, with tears streaming down his face. They'd get through this. He tried to make himself believe it, but it was the hardest thing he'd ever tried to do.

Barbara awoke the next morning to find Jack asleep in the chair next to the bed. As she started to get up, Jack opened his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, quickly coming awake.

"I'm fine, Jack," Barbara responded, without much feeling. She still sounded exhausted. But at least she had spoken, and Jack was thrilled. He knew this was crucial to her recovery.

As he reached to help her get out of bed she pulled away. She still shrank from his touch. The doctor had told him to expect this. "This is going to be a long recovery," she had explained. "This is not something you get over quickly."

Jack understood the need for patience, but he'd never been a patient man. That was something he'd have to learn. He thought of the tennis game once again. She's a fighter, he told himself. He could only wait, and hope she'd regain her former strength. And her will to win.

Chapter 11

Jack continued to take Barbara for therapy, and the doctor told him that she was making progress. Each day she regained some of her physical strength, and Jack knew this was a positive sign. He hoped that her physical gains would be matched by psychological ones. She spoke now, but she still wouldn't really talk to him. Her speech was limited to "thank you" whenever Jack did something, whether it was to bring her food or take her to the doctor. She stiffened just from the gentle touch of his hand on her arm to help her into the car. She wouldn't let him help her dress, although the movement caused her tremendous pain from her still-healing injuries. She didn't want him to see her body.

Jack was on an indefinite leave of absence from CTU. Mike Stern, the head of the agency, had called him right after they'd found Barbara to ask how she was, and to tell Jack that no one expected him to come back until she was better. He told him not to worry about anything at the office. As though Jack could. He was totally concentrated on Barbara. Nothing else mattered.

Although there were days when she lacked the strength even to get out of bed, Barbara spent most of her time in the den, looking at something no one else could see. Although the sliding door that led onto the deck flooded the room with light, which reflected off the white walls and light oak floor, the lamp on the table next to the gray recliner stayed on, day and night. Some nights, when she was too exhausted to walk back to the bedroom, she slept in the den, and Jack covered her with a blanket after she fell asleep. But it was a restless sleep, with cries and tears coming from nightmares that Jack could only imagine.

On nights she spent in the chair Jack stayed on the couch next to her, dozing, willing himself to stay awake in case she needed him. The black leather couch was comfortable, too comfortable at times, and when he awoke he chastised himself, feeling again that he had let her down, but admitting to himself that there was nothing he could have done to comfort her. She seemed beyond it.

She ate sparingly, even less than she had before. The weight she lost was every noticeable on her petite frame. Her clothes hung off her, but she showed no interest in shopping. She refused to leave the house other than to keep her doctors appointments. When Jack asked her if she wanted to go out to eat or see a movie she began to sob. Nothing gave her any respite from her pain. She wouldn't let anyone get close. Not him, not her best friend Lainie, not anyone.

Jack saw his therapist when Barbara had her appointment with her own doctor. Jack's doctor was helping him work through his feelings of anger and guilt, to help him deal with the situation. Jack needed support so that he could give Barbara his strength to lean on, and his own therapy sessions provided a means for Jack to let out his own fears and frustrations so that Barbara would not have to know about them.

Jack had never imagined that he would be in therapy. He had refused marriage counseling after Nightfall, something he regretted, but at the time he had been too immature and too selfish to acknowledge that professional help was not a sign of weakness. Teri had paid the price for his pride, and Jack was determined that Barbara would not have to suffer this, at least. Wisdom born of age had shown him that accepting help was a sign of maturity, for it signified acceptance that no one is all-powerful. Jack had long since let go of the thought that he was Superman. He had become all too aware and accepting of his human failures and foibles.

He told his doctor again of Barbara's unresponsiveness, of her phobias, her total withdrawal from him, her trouble sleeping, her lethargy, her inability to focus on anything, her failure to speak, her constant crying. The doctor listened to Jack and tried to guide him, to show him that his feelings included anger, and that it was all right for him to feel anger. That was a concept that was very hard for Jack to accept.

None of this was Barbara's fault; if he was sure of anything, it was that. How could it possibly be all right for him to be angry at her? That meant that he blamed her, and that was absurd. Jack felt himself getting angry at the doctor. "This is a lot of crap," he said. "Don't tell me 'it's okay to be mad at Barbara.' It's not okay."

"Jack," the doctor responded. "I'm not saying that you blame Barbara. You're mad at what happened to her. It's like when a patient walks in here with a mental illness. I don't get mad at the patient. I'm mad at the symptoms. With you, you're angry at what was done to Barbara, and the effect it's having on her. You have to keep that distinction in mind. But you have to allow yourself to feel anger, Jack. Otherwise you'll block all of your feelings, and that will devastate Barbara. It will destroy her. She'll think you've stopped loving her. She won't survive that."

Jack looked around the doctor's well-worn office, with the obligatory diplomas on the wall, the brown leather couch with the pillow for the patient's head and the comfortable leather chair situated just behind and to the side of the pillowed end. Jack and the doctor sat in another part of the office, in chairs facing each other, as equals. Jack could never lie on a couch and be analyzed. He wasn't there for that. His psyche was not the issue. The only question for him was how best to help his wife.

His examination of the room gave Jack a moment to think. "Do you think she knows the difference, Doctor?" Jack asked. "Does she sense that I'm angry, as you say? And if she does, does she think I'm angry at her?" Suddenly the answers to these questions were crucial to Jack.

"It's hard to tell, Jack. With your permission, and Barbara's, of course, I'll talk to Jane." Jane Petrie was Barbara's psychiatrist. The two doctors conferred frequently, but only with their patients' consent.

Jack felt his frustration growing. "Dammit, I can't even ask my wife these questions! I have to ask you to ask her doctor, who has to ask Barbara if it's all right for her to talk to you so you can ask her the questions so she can ask Barbara and tell you what she said so you can tell me. This is absurd! I should be able to ask my wife myself, but I'm afraid to. I'm afraid that just asking the questions might hurt her. I can't live like this!"

Jack pushed himself out of the chair and stood before the window, scowling at the traffic on the street twelve stories below. He hated traffic now. He hated the time he and Barbara spent in the car six times each week, three round trips to the doctor, when there was utter silence between them, none of the usual comfortable conversations or silences between a married couple. No, the tension in the car was oppressive, for both of them Jack was sure, and there was no end in sight.

"Jack, you have no choice," the doctor said. It was a flat statement.

"I know. I'm just blowing off steam. But I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Look at this realistically, Jack. What choice do you have?"

"None, I know. I've told Barbara I'll always be there for her, and I mean it. I just don't know how much longer I can keep up this 'everything will be all right' demeanor without cracking. She knows me so well. She can see right through me. I don't want her to think that I'm faking it or trying to force it. That'll hurt her more than anything."

There was silence in the doctor's office for a moment. Then he said, "Jack, you know what you have to do. You know that Barbara is fighting to recover. She loves you, and she's fighting to get better, for you. You have to believe that, because if you do it will give her the strength to continue to fight. It's an endless cycle, but a positive one. Her fight will give you hope, and that will give you strength. Your strength will communicate itself to her, and give her the will to keep trying. You can't let that cycle break, Jack. You know that. And more importantly, Barbara knows that. She knows you won't let her down. She's leaning on you because she knows you're there for her. And that is what will help her recover."

It was Jack's turn to be silent. Finally he said, "Thanks, Doc. I do know that. I just needed to hear it put together like that. I'll never give up on her. But not seeing her get any better – she's suffering just as much. She's not any better. I just feel so helpless. I don't know what to say to her."

"She knows you're there for her, Jack. That's what matters. That's what she needs. You're doing everything you can. She feels your love, Jack. Just remember that."

The doctor's words stayed with him as Jack walked to Barbara's doctor's office to pick her up. As she walked out Barbara still wouldn't look at him. As buoyed as he had been by his doctor's words, Jack felt his hope deflate from Barbara's despondence. Nothing had changed. Things were the same as they had been.

Chapter 12

It was six weeks since Barbara had come home from the hospital, and Jack was still sleeping in a separate bedroom. Barbara couldn't bear to lie next to him, even though all he wanted was to hold her.

Every light in the house stayed on, day and night. Barbara became agitated if they were turned off. She seemed to relax a little when someone was with her, as she'd also developed a fear of being alone, although she still couldn't - wouldn't - talk. Jack knew that all of her fears were reasonable, and he constantly tried to reassure her, but without response. She never acknowledged anything he said to her. Although the psychiatrist continued to see her three times a week, and she told Jack that Barbara was making progress, he couldn't see it. It seemed to him she was hurting as much as before. And despite himself, Jack continued to feel guilty. If it wasn't for him, none of this would have happened. He remembered what the doctor had said, that blaming himself would only impede her recovery, and he struggled with the feeling, but sometimes it overwhelmed him.

Her doctor tried to reassure him, and had told him not to let Barbara see that he was discouraged. Although Barbara was a strong woman, she said, what had happened to her was so awful that she'd always have psychological scars. She hoped, she'd told him, that Barbara would recover enough to function somewhat normally, although she'd never be the same as she had been. Her fear of the dark and her fears of tight spaces and of being alone would certainly always be with her. Those fears were grounded in reality, and those were the hardest to overcome. Barbara had come close to suffocating, to drowning, and she'd been buried alive. All that, in addition to rape. Although she wouldn't say it to Jack, the doctor was surprised at how far Barbara had come. She'd thought Barbara might never come out of her unresponsiveness. That she had was a testament to her strength. But strength has its limits, the doctor knew, and how much Barbara had couldn't yet be known. But the doctor wouldn't let Jack give up. She didn't know him well enough to know that no matter how discouraged he was, he never would. He clung to the image of the woman, tennis racquet in hand, so intent on winning.

They settled into a routine. After her doctor's appointments Barbara would lie down to rest and Jack would head to the kitchen to fix dinner. He'd never been a very good cook, but he was getting better at it. When he'd lived alone he'd never been very particular about what he ate, and it had always been easier to eat out or bring something in, so his culinary skills were somewhat lacking. But now that it was up to him he gamely stepped up to the plate. Yeah, he thought wryly. And what am I going to put on the plate tonight?

Kim had given him some simple recipes over the years, things he'd become comfortable with, but he wasn't in the mood to measure or stir anything. He decided to grill some steaks, and he turned to prepare a salad after he put some potatoes into the oven to bake. While he was slicing cucumbers a chilling thought occurred to him: he didn't know who had kidnapped Barbara. She'd never be safe until he found them.

Chapter 13

PTSD. They were initials with which Jack was very familiar. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was the diagnosis that had been given to Jack's inability to cope with life after Nightfall. It had taken him many years to get over it. It hadn't really happened until his time in prison, when he'd had nothing but time to think and reflect on the events of his life. Now, hearing it applied to Barbara's ordeal caused Jack immense despair. He knew how he had suffered until he had finally come to grips with the horror of what he'd lived through, and the guilt that had resulted. Knowing that the woman who he loved so dearly would have to go through that made him feel physically ill. He felt even more helpless, for he knew that, no matter the love and support he gave her, this was a fight she would have to wage, and win, on her own.

Long talks with her doctor helped Jack put Barbara's ordeal into a frame of reference that included Jack's personal experience with PTSD. It gave him something to identify with. The guilt that Jack had felt at the deaths of his men was paralleled by Barbara's guilt at not being able to fight off her attackers. His guilt at letting his men and their families down was mirrored by Barbara's guilt at feeling that she had somehow betrayed Jack. He blamed himself for something that was beyond his control; so did she. He had had to work through his feelings; so would she. Just as Jack had suffered and paid a terrible price on his way to recovery, Barbara would have to travel the same path, and bear the same burden. There was no short-cut, and there was nothing Jack could do to make it any easier. He could only be there for her, and make sure that she knew he always would be. Jack knew even without the doctors that this was the most crucial thing of all.

In their talks the doctor pointed out to Jack that he had only experienced PTSD from the viewpoint of the person who suffered from the disorder; he had not seen it from the family's side. Only after-the-fact had Jack realized how it had affected Teri, and that wasn't the same as going through the hell of seeing your loved one suffer the pain of the trauma. Jack understood that he would now be living through PTSD from the opposite side, watching his wife struggle to regain her ability to live her life again, as a whole person. As destructive as he knew the emotion to be, Jack couldn't help but pity Barbara. That was one of the first things he knew he'd have to change, for he knew that pity is one of the most destructive of emotions.

Barbara's recovery would be affected by how he coped with what had happened. She was very perceptive to begin with and now, with her emotions so raw, she would be especially sensitive to Jack's reactions. Jack took to heart what the doctor said about how Barbara would react if Jack blamed himself. He understood that she would only continue to blame herself, and that would impede, perhaps prevent, her recovery. For her sake, if not for his, he had to learn to control his feelings. It was something he'd never been able to do before. He'd only learned to lock them away.

With each day Jack resolved to be supportive. He knew that any forced cheerfulness would be instantly identified as such by Barbara, and would make her doubt any other feelings he displayed. Above all else he had to be honest with her. That meant that she had to see the times when he was down, although he was determined not to let her see just how despairing he felt. For her to know that he was upset by her suffering was one thing, to see that he was practically unable to cope was another. He had to let Barbara see that he was working with her to deal with the horror of what had been done to her, but she didn't have to know that he was overwhelmed by it. That would accomplish nothing; it might in fact lead her to feel that there was no point in even trying, and that would crush her. Above all else, she had to feel hope; without that, she would give up. Jack couldn't, wouldn't, let that happen.

Chapter 14

Jack opened the sliding door and Barbara walked out onto the deck at the rear of their house. She liked being in the sunshine. The day was warm and bright, and she liked the brightness. She was always afraid, and dreary, rainy days only made it worse.

She no longer covered herself from head to toe, in sweats that hid her figure or a long robe that had the same effect. That day she wore knee-length shorts and a pull-over shirt, still not form-fitting, but less determinedly modest. She seemed more comfortable in her own body, but only somewhat.

She looked at Jack, not certain how to start. She'd become more resolute in the decision she'd made since she got home, when she'd had nothing but time to think. It was time to tell him.

As she rested on the chaise in the sun she told Jack that they needed to talk. He sat down on the end of the lounge and looked at her.

"Jack," she said quietly. "I want you to leave."

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Because I can't be a wife anymore," she answered, without inflection.

He looked at her. "What are you talking about? You're my wife. That's not going to change," he said, bewildered.

"I can't be a wife, Jack. I can't." She looked away, towards the valley beyond the deck, and the ocean beyond that. The day was clear of smog and the view was spectacular. But her mind wasn't on the scenery.

The bright day seemed to darken perceptibly as Jack struggled to comprehend what she was saying. It didn't make sense. Why couldn't she be his wife?

He started to protest again, but stopped as it slowly started to dawn on him. She hadn't said she couldn't be his wife. She'd said she couldn't be a wife.

"Do you mean sex?" he asked. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I just can't, Jack."

"Oh, Baby," he whispered back, moving to hold her. "That doesn't matter."

She pulled away. "Of course it matters, Jack," she said, still without expression. "That's part of marriage. That's what it means to be married."

"It's part of being married, yes, but it's not the only part. It's not even the main part," he replied, quietly. "What matters is that we love each other. We care about each other. We take care of each other. The promises we made to each other. I meant them, Barb, and I still do. And I know you do, too."

He didn't know how to reassure her. With all she'd gone through the doctors had warned him that her ability to engage in physical love would surely be affected, and he had accepted it. But he hadn't expected this.

He looked at her, lying against the brightly colored pillow on the chaise. She was so petite, so tiny now, having lost so much weight that she looked lost in the large lounge chair. Barbara couldn't meet his eyes. When she looked at Jack she saw a youthful, attractive, virile man, with healthy drives. She knew she could no longer fill his needs and desires, and she owed it to him to back away, so he could find someone he could be with, in every way.

He looked at her and his heart broke. He saw again the pain she had endured, that she was still living with, and apparently would never get over. Sunshine or rain, it didn't matter. She still felt like she was trapped in a box, buried alive, with water inching up her body, about to drown her. She was constantly re-living the brutal attacks, the horrible rapes she'd endured, the helplessness and degradation they'd inflicted upon her. The debasement she'd been made to feel. She couldn't believe that she would ever get over these feelings. They were too terrible to consign to the past. They were too much a part of who she now was. She couldn't feel any hope. She believed that positive emotions were beyond her, would always be. She felt like an emotional cripple.

He read her mind.

She said nothing. He put his hand under her chin, and turned her face to his. "I love you. If it means we don't have sex, then so be it. I'm a big boy. I'll survive. What I won't survive is not being in your life. Not having you in mine." He gave her a small smile. "You're who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. Only you. Nothing you can say will ever change that. And we're going to get through this. I'm not going to give up. And I won't let you."

She pulled away from his touch. Her tears were coming faster now. Why couldn't he see that she was right? How could she make him understand?

He didn't realize that they were thinking the same thing. He was right, he knew it. Why didn't she understand?

Barbara lay on the chaise, tears coursing down her face. Jack couldn't move. "I love you, Barbara. I'm not going anywhere. No matter what, we face things together. That's what love means. You've been through a lot. We both have. But we'll both get over this, because we're going to give strength to each other."

Tears started to roll down her cheeks. "I can't do it, Jack. I can't."

"Barbara, I'm not leaving. Ever. I love you. I'm your husband, and I'm going to stay your husband. Nothing you say or do, nothing that happened, will ever change that." He tried not to let her hear the anxiety he felt. And the anger, he realized. How could she be asking him to leave? They were going to be together. They would overcome the past. They would overcome anything. How could she think he would give up? He was at a loss. He didn't know how to get her to believe him.

More tears fell from her eyes. "I just can't do it. I'm sorry," she whispered. She was frustrated because she couldn't get him to understand .

"Barbara, we'll work this out. We still have the babies." With everything that had happened, Lainie had told them that the pregnancy hadn't been affected. That was the bright spot for them, but now even that wasn't helping.

He took a breath. "There's only you, Barb. After Teri died I doubted I'd ever feel love again. Then we met, and I realized that I was wrong. I love you very, very, very much. But this is it for me. There's no one else out there. There's no one else I'll ever love. So I'm not letting you go. Not ever."

He tried to hold her, but she moved away and began to sob. He was only upsetting her more. He slowly lowered his arms and stood up. He walked inside. She didn't hear him cry.

Chapter 15

Barbara went straight to the bedroom and wouldn't come out for dinner. Jack sat at the kitchen table, pushing the food around on his plate, any appetite he'd had gone. The room seemed to mock his feelings. It was bright and light. White glossy cabinets contrasted against black granite countertops and a black ceramic tile floor. There was a splash of color from the red kettle on the stove and a vase filled with fresh flowers that Jack bought every week. The countertop lowered to a desk area at the far end, where a laptop was surrounded by an orderly array of papers and folders, also adding color, along with the usual profusion of pens and pads found in a corner near a phone. At the opposite end of the counter there was a breakfast bar where they had sat so many times, sharing the newspaper, playfully arguing over the news section, Jack feigning annoyance if Barbara took the sports section, laughing together over the editorial cartoons of the day. Most mornings the sun shone through the doors to the deck, making lights unnecessary. Even on rainy mornings, which weren't that common in LA, the kitchen was bright and inviting.

There hadn't been mornings like that since the attack, and Jack hadn't grown used to sitting at the counter alone. He missed the sharing of the paper, the teasing, the feeling of love. It had been a wonderful way to start the day, giving strength against anything that might be thrown at them. Now he doubted that they'd ever have that again.

As he lay in bed that night sleep didn't come. Instead, thoughts of Barbara's ordeal, imaginings of what had been done to her, ran over and over through his mind in an endless loop. He knew that four men had been involved in the kidnapping, four men who had brutalized her, degraded her, debased her, done unimaginable things to her, things that his mind was nevertheless insisting on imagining. Throughout his career Jack had seen unspeakable horrors, but now they had happened to someone he loved. He had never learned of the assault on Teri; whether she would have told him would never be known. Teri's terrible death had ended her suffering; Jack had been left to grieve for the woman he so loved, but in a way, a cruel yet merciful way, the swiftness of her murder had made her suffering finite: her terror had ended with Nina's bullet. So with Barbara for the first time Jack faced the ultimate despicable acts upon his loved one that he couldn't have stopped, and would have to try to help her bear. And he didn't know how.

Until then Jack had succeeded in sublimating these thoughts, but his talk with Barbara had ended that. He was now faced with confronting the horror head-on. His sessions with the psychiatrist were meant to help him cope with his own feelings of grief and remorse, to give him the strength to help Barbara. That was paramount. But after their talk that day for the first time Jack doubted that he could give Barbara all of the support she needed.

Thoughts of their conversation kept playing over in his mind. As he lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling he couldn't see, he thought of the time she had spent in the crate, believing she would die, believing he would never find her in time. Did she hate him for what she had suffered? Could that have changed her feelings for him? No, he knew. She still loved him. She didn't blame him, and he was trying hard to quash the guilt he was imposing on himself.

He knew what it was. She was still blaming herself. She was still feeling guilty for something that Jack knew she couldn't have prevented, but it was something Barbara couldn't yet accept, didn't yet believe. Jack thought bitterly of all the times he had blamed himself for things that had been beyond his control, and how the guilt had poisoned his feelings, especially his relationship with Teri after Nightfall. He felt the irony of being on the other side, feeling the helplessness that Teri must have felt in having to deal with a spouse so wracked with guilt for something for which he hadn't been responsible. Now the shoe was on the other foot. There was nothing Barbara could have done to prevent what had been done to her, just as Jack could not have done anything to prevent the deaths of his men that had resulted from the betrayal of the mission by persons he'd never been able to identify. Teri hadn't been able to help him, he hadn't let her; now Barbara was pushing Jack away, as he had walled off Teri. Jack had finally worked through enough of his guilt for Nightfall to enable he and Teri to reconcile, but would Barbara be able to overcome her feelings of shame and let Jack help her? Despite all the professional help she was getting Jack was growing fearful that Barbara couldn't do it. She only had so much strength, and she had expended much of it in overcoming, surviving, her physical injuries. Did she have enough left to prevail over the sheer horror of what they had done to her, before they put her in the box, before they buried her? He knew, or thought he did, what they had done to her, hard as he had tried to block it from his mind. The doctor said she was making progress in controlling her feelings of guilt. But would she be able to fight her way back to where she could function? For once Jack felt a terrible hopelessness, helplessness he'd never before experienced.

In the next room Barbara also lay awake, this time without tears. She had none left.

Chapter 16

She hardly spoke after that day on the deck, and the tension only increased. Jack felt that every time he talked to her Barbara moved farther away from him emotionally. She found no pleasure in anything. Her strength and determination, the things he had first noticed about her, were gone. She was building a wall, shutting him out more each day, and he didn't know how to try to knock it down. Again he saw the irony. He had intentionally built a wall around Teri and Kim, to separate his work from his family, he had told himself, but in fact it had been a wall between he and Teri. Now it was a wall between he and Barbara, a wall that Barbara was building. Instead of that wall coming down it seemed to grow higher every day. Jack felt a despair he'd never felt before. She was his love. She was his life. And he was losing her.

The situation remained mostly unchanged, but Barbara again stopped eating. She ate barely enough to sustain herself and the babies. Lainie tried to convince her that she should be gaining weight, but Barbara couldn't, wouldn't, eat more. Even Lainie's warning, threat really, that she would hospitalize Barbara to tube-feed her didn't provoke a response, other than to get Barbara to eat a high-calorie pudding.

Jack lost patience with her. One afternoon when they returned from Lainie's office after a pre-natal check-up where they learned that Barbara had lost a pound, Jack told Barbara that she had no right to endanger the babies. "Even if you don't care about yourself, think about them. They're our flesh and blood, Barbara. They deserve every chance we can give them. The only way they can get that chance is if you take care of yourself, and that means eating properly."

He paused for breath, a deep one. "I can't believe how selfish you're being. I know you've gone through hell. I've tried to help you, I'm trying to help you, and I'll keep on trying to help you, but you've got to take care of these babies. I can't do that. If Lainie says you have to go to the hospital I'll sign you in. I don't care if you say no. I'll do it anyway."

He paused again. "Look at me, dammit! At least acknowledge what I'm saying! That you at least hear me!"

She kept her silence, and continued to stare into space. She stood there, not speaking, until Jack finally turned and left the room. Even then she remained standing, a vacant look on her face. She was still there, that way, when Jack returned to the room twenty minutes later. He was very frightened.

"Barb," he said softly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have done that. But I'm frustrated, and I'm frightened. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want to lose the babies. You heard what Lainie said. If you don't keep your weight up the delivery will be dangerous for you, and the babies will be in danger if they're underweight. We can't let that happen. I won't let that happen."

When there was still no response he walked towards her and took her hand. She didn't resist, but she didn't react, either. He guided her to the couch and gently placed his hands on her shoulders so she would sit down. He was terrified by the blank look on her face and her complete loss of connection with the world.

Chapter 17

Jack didn't sleep that night. Barbara had remained seated on the couch where he had placed her, still not moving, until he gently tugged her to her feet and guided her to the bedroom. She went without a word, simply responding to the gentle touch of his hand on her arm maneuvering her through the door, up the stairs, into the room. He sat her on the bed, thinking that she'd lie down, rest, but she didn't. She was like a robot. She wouldn't move without a command, without Jack directing her by physical contact to stand, walk, sit.

When he attempted to swing her legs up onto the bed she looked at him in a way she never had before, as though he was a stranger, and he let go. Without a word he kissed her on the top of her head and walked to the door, which he closed behind him.

Jack walked to the kitchen and poured himself a double Scotch. He'd never felt so shaken. Some indefinable point had been reached that day, and he knew it didn't auger well.

He took his drink into the den and collapsed into the recliner next to the couch that Barbara had so recently occupied. He pictured her there, silent, vacant, lost. Something he had said to her, yelled at her that day had hit home. He knew that his tirade hadn't been appropriate; how could he have yelled at someone in such obvious, terrible pain? But with his frustration boiling over his own reserves for coping were exhausted. He knew he had to control himself, for he couldn't expect her to give him strength, but really, how much more could he give her? And how could she not take care of the babies? How could she jeopardize them?

As he lit a cigarette, one of the several he now permitted himself each day, he tried to understand what was happening with Barbara. She had seemed to be making progress, albeit slowly, until she had asked him to leave. He realized that it was then when he'd started to lose it, but had managed to restrain himself until that afternoon. The weight loss had been the final straw, for the dangers that Lainie had pointed out were all too real. He wasn't going to let Barbara take chances with her own life, or the babies'.

He didn't know when he'd dozed off, but when he awoke with a start light was coming in through the windows. He rose quickly and went to the bedroom, where he quietly turned the knob. Although the lights were still on the bed was empty. It hadn't been slept in. There was only a slight indentation from where he had sat her down the night before.

He checked the bathroom and then went through the rest of the house before admitting to himself that she was gone. He ran to the garage and confirmed that the car, his car, wasn't there. They hadn't yet replaced Barbara's car; there'd been no need. She hadn't been up to looking for a new one, as she hadn't been ready to do so many things, and there had been no reason to rush her. So the only car in the garage was Jack's, and now it was gone.

"Dammit!" he yelled. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" He drew in breath sharply. "Where the fck did she go! Where the fck is she?" He was shaking. He didn't know where to begin to look.

He dialed the phone. "CTU," he heard the voice say. "Kaufman."

"Adam, this is Jack. Let me speak with Tony."

"Uh, sure, Jack. Can I help you with something?"

"No, Adam. Just put Tony on."

Jack waited. It seemed endless. Finally Tony picked up. "Yeah, Jack, what is it? We're busy this morning."

"Tony, I need you to activate the tracker in my car. And I need another car at my house, with a receiver. Now."

"What's wrong, Jack? What's going on?"

Jack paused. He knew the news would be all over CTU in minutes, but there was nothing he could do to help it. "Barbara took my car, Tony, and I don't know where she went. She's very upset. I have to find her. Please, Tony, do this now. I don't know what kind of shape she's in."

Tony realized the urgency of Jack's request. "I'll do it right now, Jack, and I'll have one of the agents bring another car to you. I'll have it there in, oh, twenty minutes. Thirty tops, if there's traffic. I'll call you as soon as we get anything on the tracker."

"Thanks, Tony, I owe you one," Jack said, but not yet feeling relieved. The chance of this having a good ending was remote, at best.

Chapter 18

Barbara hadn't driven in months, not since the attack, but of course it was like riding a bike, driving a car wasn't something you forgot. No, the problem was the memory of being dragged out of the car, bound, raped, buried alive, left for dead. Little things, she thought bitterly. Things I should 'snap out of.' That's what Jack said, isn't it? she mused. That's what it amounts to.

She was doing the best she could. Why wouldn't he see that? Why couldn't he see that she would be better if he would leave? She'd let him see the babies whenever he wanted. She would share custody with him. Maybe she'd even let him have custody. Yes, she thought. He can take care of them, and I can go see them. And he'll be a wonderful parent. He'll do a great job raising them.

Or maybe they're better off never being born. This thought shot through her. That way they'll never know pain. Or sorrow. They'll never cry. They'll never feel unloved.

She let her thoughts continue. Life only brings suffering. Life brings pain. Life has no purpose.

As she sat on the sand staring at the waves she remembered again how inviting the surf always was. She loved the ocean. She loved the feeling of walking in from the beach, deeper and deeper, until she could no longer feel the bottom, the feeling of being carried away, towards the horizon, towards a place that wasn't there. Towards forever.

She stood up.

Chapter 19

The warm waves were higher, and Barbara could feel herself being lulled in ever deeper. The water was well over her head now. The peace she felt made her think how appropriate the name of the ocean was. She had moved farther out. She was out of sight of the shore.

She saw with surprise that her arms were moving in a gentle motion, along with a similar movement of her legs, not quite a dog paddle but together enough to keep her afloat, but she didn't know what was making them move. It wasn't something she was aware of doing. The motions seemed to be separate, independent of her.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed that way but her body continued its movements, maintaining her stationary position while her mind continued its reverie. She didn't hear the cries of the gulls or the roar of the engines of the Coast Guard cutter as it approached her.

"Grab the ring!" a voice shouted to her. "Grab hold of this! We'll bring you in!"

She didn't hear it at first, but as the sound penetrated her unreal state she turned in the water and saw the boat. Even that didn't register at first, but as the rubber raft drew closer she saw the men in the life jackets reach out to pull her in. She didn't resist as they gently lifted her over the side and wrapped her in a blanket.

"You all right, lady?" one of the men asked. "We'll get you to a doctor as soon as we get in."

Barbara still didn't talk. She looked at the man as though she couldn't hear, not thinking, not reacting. Her blank state continued.

"Your husband called us," the man went on. "He'll be at the pier when we dock. He told us he thought you might have swum out too far, gotten caught in a current or something. He's very worried."

Barbara continued to look at the man blankly, still not acknowledging his words or his presence, making him wonder if the woman had lost her mind. In fact, she had.

Chapter 20

When Jack saw Barbara wrapped in the blanket on the deck of the cutter he felt a relief such as he'd never felt before. He jumped on board before the boat was even tied up and knelt next to her. "Thank God," he murmured as he enveloped her in his arms and rocked her. "Thank God."

"She seems to be all right, Sir," said the Chief of the boat, the sailor in charge of the cutter. "We found her about a mile out. She was smart, Sir. She wasn't fighting the current. She was going with it, just like you're supposed to, so she didn't wear herself out. That's why she didn't go under. It's amazing, but I don't think she swallowed any water. I'm sure she'll be okay, but you ought to get her checked. Especially since she's pregnant and all."

"I will, Chief," said Jack. "And thank you. I don't think she realized there was such a strong tide. I'll make sure she doesn't swim alone again."

"Here, let me help you," the Chief said as Jack started to lift Barbara in his arms. As Jack climbed up to the pier the sailor gently handed Barbara to him, and Jack tenderly carried his wife to the car.

"Baby, baby, I love you," Jack said as he put her on the seat and carefully fastened the seatbelt across her bulging belly. He continued to cradle her. He wouldn't, couldn't let go. "I can't tell you how scared I was. Am. Barb, we have to work this out. I realize how I hurt you yesterday. I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just so scared. I love you. But everything will be fine. We're going to be okay."

Jack wasn't surprised when she didn't answer. He didn't know if she'd even heard him. It was obvious to him that she'd had some sort of breakdown. Jack had called Lainie from his cell as he drove to the pier, frantically telling her that he was afraid Barbara was trying to kill herself. Lainie told Jack that Barbara had to be hospitalized for her own protection, as well as to save the babies. She told him to bring Barbara straight to the hospital, where she would make arrangements for her admission to the psychiatric department. Jack knew it was necessary, although he hated to hear it.

Jack continually looked over at Barbara as he drove, cursing the traffic, desperate to get her someplace safe, someplace protected from the pressures of the world that were obviously too much for her to withstand. He knew his efforts weren't enough. She had to be hospitalized.

Lainie was waiting at the entrance to the emergency room and with an orderly helped her inside. They wheeled her to a cubicle where the nurses removed her wet clothing, puzzled why a pregnant woman would have gone swimming with her clothes on, not aware of her mental state, but increasingly suspicious at her lack of responsiveness.

After throwing the keys to the parking attendant Jack ran into the hospital, not waiting for directions to Barbara's room, peering into every door as he raced down the corridor until he found the right one. He saw Lainie checking Barbara, listening to her heart, her lungs, hearing with relief that there was no sign that she had inhaled any water, that she was all right. A sonogram showed that the babies seemed to be unaffected, and were moving just as they should be. Jack felt himself start to breathe normally as he saw the tiny images on the screen, and he allowed himself to relax a little when Lainie told him that Barbara, too, was okay. Physically. She didn't have to tell him that emotionally she might be too far gone to be reached. He left the room before he let himself start to cry.

Chapter 21

The doctors had earlier explained to Jack that in addition to PTSD Barbara was suffering from clinical depression. Jack had, of course, heard of depression, but only in the general sense; he, like most, thought of it as a medical name for people who were unhappy. He had never thought of it as separate from PTSD, for to him patients with PTSD were obviously unhappy, and he had no experience with the medical particulars of the disease. And depression is a disease; that was one of the first things they had told him, and that had come as a surprise. The doctors explained that clinical depression is far more than unhappiness; it's caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, and can be so debilitating that it interferes with normal living. It can be so bad that people can't get out of bed in the morning, can't work, can't eat, can't sleep, can't take care of their children. That last part hit Jack with special force. That the symptoms could be eliminated with medication didn't seem to matter to Jack after he read that.

Jack spent a lot of time on the computer researching the subject on the internet, but he had a lot of difficulty understanding the concepts underlying clinical depression, especially in a woman who hadn't been depressed before. Everything he read emphasized that clinical depression was caused by chemical imbalances in the brain, but if she'd had this imbalance all along, why had she become depressed only now? He didn't understand what was happening, and his apprehension was only worsened by his sense that the doctors didn't, either.

The doctors reviewed the records and the test results but came up with no new diagnoses, not even any new theories. PTSD and severe depression remained the consensus, but all of the doctors agreed that there had to be something else there. The breakdown she had suffered after the progress she had made just didn't fit, not when there hadn't been a new trauma. The fight between Jack and Barbara, they all agreed, wasn't enough to trigger this further decline in her condition. Jack didn't know what to think. He was optimistic and pessimistic at the same time. He was trying to hold onto the optimism, but the pessimism was steadily gaining ground.

Jack visited her every day, of course, but the psychiatrist told him not to expect any progress, at least not right away, but his trust and faith in the doctor had vanished with Barbara's suicide attempt. Lainie had tried to reassure him by explaining that progress in such a situation was not a straight line, that there were always setbacks, but Jack wasn't buying it. This was not just a setback, he had told her. If it hadn't been for the tracker in his car she would have drowned. If he had slept a little later she would have drowned. If the Coast Guard cutter had been farther away she would have drowned. No, this was not just a setback. She was worse than she'd ever been. And she was about to give birth. Not only were the babies in danger because of her weakened physical condition, could she be even be trusted with them after they were born?

At Jack's insistence another doctor was called in. She evaluated Barbara's records and spoke to the doctor Barbara had been seeing, but she had nothing new to offer. She told Jack that there was nothing she would have done differently. Jack wasn't reassured. He felt more frustrated than ever.

And his guilt was as strong as ever. He lambasted himself for losing patience, for yelling at her, when none of it had been her fault. Clearly that was what had driven her over the edge. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have been so uncaring? He knew she didn't want to be like this. She didn't want to jeopardize the babies. She wasn't deliberately losing weight. How had he lost sight of that? How could he have let himself hurt her? Because of him she had almost died. There was no question that she had tried to kill herself. He knew that Barbara wouldn't survive another attempt. He was eating himself up with guilt and fear.

Barbara remained totally unresponsive. She wouldn't look at him. She stared into space, her eyes unfocused, nothing registering, the same way she'd been when she'd first been rescued from the box. Only now the babies were barely a month from being born

The doctors asked Jack to come in for a conference. He sat with Lainie, the psychiatrist and a social worker, not knowing what was coming. The psychiatrist spoke first. "Jack, you know this isn't good. Barbara's in a very deep depression. It's more than just PTSD. She's withdrawn into her own world. We can't reach her. We won't be able to until after she's given birth. We'll be able to give her meds then, and we hope she'll start to come out of it, but even then I can't promise you anything. The depression is very, very severe. She won't be able to come out of it on her own. Until she gives birth she has to stay here, for her safety and the babies'. And after the births I'm afraid you'll have to commit her. I don't know for how long."

The words made him feel like he'd been stabbed. 'Commitment' sounded so evil, like being locked up in a medieval dungeon. That's how he thought of mental hospitals, like places he'd seen depicted in movies, where patients, inmates really, wandered aimlessly, talking to themselves, condemned to live out their lives in places without hope. It sounded like it might be forever. He couldn't consign Barbara to that.

Jack asked question after question, finally leaving the meeting more confused than ever. He didn't know when he'd ever felt more miserable. She was slipping away from him, and no one seemed to know how to stop it. He had thought he couldn't cry any more. As he got into his car he found that he was wrong.

Chapter 22

At their insistence Jack went to Tony and Michelle's for dinner. No one wanted him to be alone. They had all seen Barbara struggle to recover, and were all aghast at what Jack told them the doctors were calling a 'setback.' He fumed as he said the word. Tony poured him a fresh scotch as they sat on the patio while Jack gathered his thoughts. He found that he couldn't speak any more. Tony understood.

Jack didn't even look up as Tony helped Michelle set the table and bring out platters of steaming roast chicken with new potatoes, crisp snap peas and a tossed salad. Tony mouthed "no" when Michelle started to put a bottle of wine on the table. She went to the kitchen and returned with soft drinks, and then Tony softly called Jack's name. After the second time Jack looked up.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know where I was. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"No need to be sorry, Jack, we understand," said Michelle. "But I think it'd be good if you eat something. I know you want to go back to the hospital, but Tony said the docs said Barb will be asleep, so you ought to eat and get some rest in the meantime. You can stay here tonight. Just let the hospital know where you are, and spend the night. It'll be good for you not to be alone."

"You guys are great," Jack said, meaning it, but without much inflection in his voice. He was too tired and too down to show enthusiasm. But he took some chicken, vegetables and salad and started eating, not having realized that he was hungry. Instead of soda he drank his scotch, and looked at Tony to refill his glass yet again. Tony complied, thinking it would help Jack relax and sleep. No harm, he thought. He needs all the rest he can get.

After starting to eat with relish Jack's appetite quickly tapered off. There was no way he could shake the image of Barbara on the boat, totally divorced from the world, looking as she had when he'd pulled her from the box. And in the hospital, still vacant, her mind having seemingly been emptied, all signs of reality, of life, gone. He didn't even know if there was still a spark there that could be nursed back to a flame. He was afraid that he had lost her for good.

Michelle saw Jack's eyes fill with tears as his head was bent over his plate. She gently touched his hand, but he wouldn't look up. She stood and put her hand around his shoulder, and wasn't surprised at the sobs that started to pour out of him.

He was beyond comfort. Michelle and Tony knew that pity was a destructive thing, but there was nothing else they could feel for Jack. They had done everything they could to help ease his suffering; there was nothing left to say or do. They could only let him know that he was not alone, and that he was cared for deeply.

As he stood from the table he wiped his eyes and mumbled an apology. He was through the door and out of the house before they could stop him, and they hoped that he could safely make it to the hospital. There was nowhere else he might go.

Chapter 23

He went to the beach, seeing in his mind Barbara walking into the water, intent on killing herself, their babies, their hopes, their lives. His attempt to imagine the pain that drove her, the madness that had so taken over her was a failure. He had always fought to live. He couldn't imagine anyone giving up. He was indescribably angry at her.

The hospital was the last place he would go. He didn't want to see her. He might never want to again. She wasn't who he thought she was. That woman would never risk her - their - children. He had had PTSD, and all the pain it had caused him had never led him to jeopardize Teri or Kim. His strength had never let him. He had isolated himself from them, yes, but that had been to save them from his pain while he'd worked through it for himself, and he had done it. He acknowledged that he'd given into it, had become an addict, but he'd fought his way back. He hadn't had the luxury of all the professional help Barbara had, and still she wasn't better. She was worse. She was wallowing in her pity. She wasn't letting herself get better.

He was as mesmerized by the water as she had been, but he broke his reverie and headed for home. He refused to allow himself a drink, not wanting anything to dull his anger. He wanted it, he deserved it. He had been patient, understanding, compassionate too long. He would be there for the next month. After that, after the babies were born, Barbara would be on her own. If she wanted to die then, that was up to her.

Chapter 24

Lainie and Bobby were surprised when Jack didn't come to the hospital. He had been a fixture at Barbara's bedside, and the nurses had given up trying to get him to leave. They knew they couldn't enforce the limited visiting hours when it came to Jack.

Lainie called him when he didn't show up the following day. Jack answered but was noncommittal when Lainie asked him when he'd come by. His speech wasn't slurred, he was clearly sober, but the difference in his tone was unmistakable. She didn't know what had caused the change, but clearly it was something major.

"What's going on, Jack? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Lainie. The babies are all right, aren't they?"

The coldness in his voice stunned her. "Yes, Jack, they're fine. And while Barbara's still unresponsive, we hope she'll start to come out of it. We're starting to focus on possible causes, physical causes, for her condition. There's clearly more going on than PTSD and depression. We think we're on to something."

He heard the concern in her voice, but he no longer cared. That concern was based on her friendship with Barbara even more than their professional relationship, but Jack was no longer involved in her treatment, no longer even felt involved in her life. His only concern was that Lainie take good care of the babies, and he was sure she would. He knew Lainie would call him when Barbara's labor started, and he would be there for their birth, of course, but after that Lainie's involvement with the babies would end. Lainie could continue to take care of Barbara, or not. Jack no longer cared. Barbara was on her own.

The coldness was still there as he replied, "That's good. I hope you are. Please call me when her labor starts."

He said good-bye and hung up. The shock she felt was numbing.

Chapter 25

After two more days without Jack at the hospital Bobby called and asked to meet him. Bobby pressed him when Jack's tone indicated that he clearly wasn't interested, so he gave in. "All right, Bobby, where do you want to go?" Jack asked resignedly. "I don't have a lot of time."

"There's a coffee shop a couple of blocks from the hospital, Jack. Just north of the main entrance. Two o'clock?"

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you then."

During his walk there Bobby thought of Jack's curt tone and tried to figure out what was behind it. In his talks with Lainie neither had been able to think of a cause, for neither could imagine that Jack was blaming Barbara for her condition. His love for her had seemed boundless. That that had changed was unthinkable. Anger never occurred to them.

Yet Jack's hostility was unmistakable as they faced each other in the booth. "What did you want to talk about?" Jack rudely asked Bobby as soon as the waitress put cups of coffee down before them.

Taken aback, Bobby paused before answering. "You've clearly withdrawn from her, Jack, and we don't understand it. What's going on? Are you blaming her? You can't be. It's not her fault. You must know that."

"I don't know that, Bobby." Jack's weariness came through. "She tried to kill my children. I can't forgive that."

He hadn't even mentioned the harm she'd tried to do to herself. He only cared about the babies. This wasn't Jack. What the hell was up? "Jack, she had no more control over that than she has over her breathing. She's not responsible for what's happening to her. How can you be mad at an illness? That's what this is, Jack. An illness. She didn't ask for it, and she's trying hard to beat it. I've never seen anyone try harder. Would you turn your back on her if she had cancer? That's what you're doing. That's exactly what you're doing. I can't believe you."

Jack's anger came through loud and clear as he replied, "I didn't come here to be judged by you, Bob. This is between Barbara and me. It's none of your business. You're trying to get her well. That'll be great if you can do it. Lainie's job is to take care of my children, and to get them safely through the delivery. I'm counting on her to do that. I want those babies protected, Bob. That's my concern. That's my only concern. I don't wish Barbara ill, but I can't be responsible for her anymore. I've given it everything I have, and I'm sorry if it hasn't been enough. But I don't have anything more to give."

The flatness of Jack's tone threw Bobby. He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this. There was no emotion there, no concern. He truly didn't care. Bobby didn't know what to say.

He fell back on his training. "I think you ought to speak to someone, Jack. Work out your anger. I understand it. You've been through a terrible time, and this setback is overwhelming you. It's understandable that you feel you can't cope. I'll recommend a psychiatrist. I think he'll be able to help you."

The suddenness with which Jack stood jarred the table, sloshing the coffee over them both. "I don't need your psychoanalysis, Bob. I'm fine. I don't need a doctor. It's Barbara who needs them. Not that they've done any good," he added. Again Bobby noted the lack of emotion. There wasn't even any bitterness there. There was nothing. Jack truly didn't care.

"Just have Lainie call me when Barbara goes into labor," he directed. "I want to be there. I'll arrange for a nurse to take care of the babies when I can bring them home." He threw a few dollars on the table and walked away before Bobby could even try to respond.

Chapter 26

The thoughts that ran through her mind didn't show on her face. To others Barbara remained devoid of expression, lost, perhaps forever.

She re-lived the day in the water, the gentleness of the waves, the warmth of the water, the feeling of approaching oblivion. The welcoming feeling of nothingness. Then she remembered the involuntary motions of her body, keeping her afloat, keeping her alive. She wanted to die, but a part of her wanted to live. She hadn't even known that part existed. Her body and mind were at war. It confused her.

The kicking of the babies made her more aware of their impending arrival. She had been wrong. As her body wanted to live, so did they. She couldn't deprive them of that.

Her attempts to put the two together only brought her anguish. She was vacant and unresponsive, for all of her mind was concentrating on resolving the greatest problem she'd ever face. She only brought pain to Jack, who she loved more than life. She couldn't stand for Jack to suffer, so she had to end his pain. The only way to end the pain she was causing Jack was thus to die. But Jack loved the babies, and they wanted to live, and if they died Jack would suffer immeasurable pain. And if she died they would die. So she had to live. But that would cause Jack pain. So if she lived he would suffer. And if she died the babies would die, and he would suffer.

None of this anguished attempt at logic showed. To all it appeared that her mind had shut down, that she had retreated to a part of herself that none could enter. This lasted until she solved the conundrum. It was so obvious.

She would live until the babies were born. That would spare Jack the pain of losing them. After their births she would die. That would end the pain that her life was causing Jack. With this resolution a peace settled over her.

So wrapped up in this was she that she seemed to take no notice of Jack's absence. If anything, it seemed appropriate to her. She deserved to be abandoned. She would bear his children and then burden him no longer.

An hour or so later the nurse heard a banging noise coming from her room and went to check. She saw Barbara lying unconscious on the bed, in the middle of a seizure, the frame of the bed hitting the wall.

Chapter 27

Jack was sleeping well for the first time since the attack. He accepted that his job had led to Barbara's suffering, but he had done everything he could for her, and his conscience was clear. With dispassion he pitied her, as he would anyone, a stranger, in her situation, but he no longer felt any connection to her. All that was left was his children. He no longer even thought of them as 'hers;' she had tried to kill them, and thus forfeited all rights to them. She was incapable of being a mother, that was abundantly clear. She was now just a human vessel, and the babies, his babies, would soon be born, and free of her.

Jack returned to CTU, fitting back in like he'd never left. The day when he'd so agonizingly waited for the call from Barbara's kidnappers seemed never to have happened. He resumed planning and supervising field ops, now waiting only for the call that Barbara was in labor. He hoped it wouldn't be too much longer. Then she would be out of his life.

Bobby's phone call telling him of the seizure had not budged Jack's feelings. After receiving assurances that the babies hadn't been harmed Jack's only question was whether the seizure had brought on labor, and when Bobby told him that it hadn't Jack again asked to be told when labor began and hung up.

The change in Jack was noticed by all with shock and dismay. The man they thought they knew was incapable of such hard-heartedness, but he was not that man. Perhaps he had never been, they all thought, but it was a conclusion they innately rejected. That they could have been so wrong about him was not something they could easily accept. None could believe that they could all have been so wrong.

Chapter 28

The doctors pored over the results of the CAT scan they had done after the seizure, and they were encouraged yet greatly concerned. The brain lesion was plainly visible, and could most likely be removed safely. They hoped it was benign. It would account for Barbara's behavior, the bottomless depression, the suicide attempt, the unreachable, vacant state, and most importantly the seizure. But it would be tricky operating during the end of the pregnancy, yet waiting would be more dangerous for her. And they needed Jack's consent

"How will this affect the babies?" was Jack's only question when the neurosurgeon explained the procedure to him.

"They should be all right," Lainie responded.

"'Should be'"? Jack asked. "What do you mean?"

"There's a risk to the surgery, Jack. There's a chance of uncontrollable bleeding in the brain. That would create all sorts of problems, including heart failure. I'll do a C-section before the neurosurgery so they won't be affected by the anesthesia, or the sedatives she'll need post-op. I wish I could wait a little longer to deliver them, it would give them a chance to gain some more weight, but it's better than being exposed to the anesthesia and pain-killers after the operation. They're a good weight now, but it would be better if they had a chance to gain a little more. But we think the surgery will go well, and it's Barb's only chance. The babies should be all right."

"I don't want to hear 'should be,' Lainie," Jack said. "I'm not taking chances with them."

"Jack, if we wait with the surgery Barbara will die. I told you, this is her only chance. This is a fast-growing tumor, and it's already causing serious damage. That's what caused the seizure. If it's not removed immediately it will kill her. Her only chance is to operate now." Bobby was adamant.

"That's not my concern," Jack said. "The babies are. I'm not going to consent to anything that puts them at risk. If you delay the surgery and they gain more weight they'll be safer. You just said that. So no surgery now." He, too, wasn't budging.

"Jack, what the hell's gotten into you?" Lainie exploded. "She's your wife, for God's sake. You love her. You're responsible for her, not just for the babies. Don't you care anymore?"

"No, Lainie, I don't," Jack responded. "I've had it with her. She tried to kill them, and I can't forgive her for that. They're all I'm concerned with, and I'm not going to take any chances with them. So no surgery. After they're born I'll sign all the consents you want. But not until then."

"Don't you get it, Jack? The tumor caused her to try to kill herself. She couldn't control what she did. She's not responsible!"

"I've had it. No more. I'm sorry she's suffering, but I have no more to give. My only concern is the babies. I'm not going to sign a consent, and that's it." He stood to leave, but Bobby grabbed him by the arm.

"You bstard," he said. "She's been through hell, she's been fighting this, for you, for the babies, she never gave up, and now you're giving up on her. You're a son of a bitch, you know that, Jack? A fcking son of a bitch. We'll go to court and get a judge to order the surgery. We're not going to let her die because you're so fcking selfish. We're not going to let you do this."

Jack pulled away angrily. "I'm taking her out of here. This isn't the only hospital in town, and you're not the only doctors. So fck you."

Chapter 29

He was on his cellphone before he was even out of sight of them, calling to arrange to transfer Barbara to another hospital where there were other fine doctors who could safely deliver the babies. After that the doctors could operate on Barbara if they wanted to, but Jack would take the babies home. Jack no longer cared about Barbara. She was no more than a womb to him now.

Standing in the stairwell he made the arrangements, and after speaking to the new doctors he returned to the nurses' station to tell Lainie and Bobby that Barbara would be immediately transferred. Lainie wasn't there, and Bobby calmly told him that Barbara had already been taken to surgery. Jack went on a rampage.

"What the fck have you done?" he screamed. "You had no right to do that. I never gave my consent. I'll have you all arrested. If you don't stop the operation now, I will. If anything happens to those babies I'll kill you. I'll fcking kill you!" He lunged for Bobby, but was restrained by hospital security guards.

"You've forced us to do this, Jack. It's on you. Lainie is performing a caesarean section, and then the neurosurgeons are going to remove the tumor. We're going to save Barbara, Jack, whether you want it or not. We're not going to let her die. The babies will be fine. It's only a month early, and they're fully developed. Another month will be strictly weight-gain. It would be nice, but it's not worth Barbara's life. If we wait to do the surgery Barbara will not make it. So sit down and shut up. Lainie will be out after she delivers the twins."

Jack was silent. He shook off the hands of the guards, who remained close. He glared at Bobby, who glared back. He was as eager to kill Jack as Jack was to kill him.

"I want to be there," Jack said to Bobby. "I want to see the babies being born."

"No, Jack," Bobby said. "This is a regular operation, in a sterile operating room, and that means no outsiders. And if I was going to make an exception you're the last person I'd make it for." The men glared at each other again, but Jack stayed silent.

"How long does this take?" he muttered. Louder, he said to Bobby, "I said, how long does this take? Can't you at least tell me that?"

"I didn't hear you, Jack. It shouldn't take too long, but Lainie still has to close the incision. So you just have to wait." Bobby's tone was anything but sympathetic. He hoped that the wait would be lengthy. Jack deserved no consideration. Bobby was still ready to deck him.

Lainie came out shortly after, her eyes on Jack as she walked towards him. "You have a son and a daughter, Jack. Both healthy, both beautiful. Both good weight. He's five pounds six ounces, seventeen and a half inches, and she's five pounds four ounces, seventeen inches. Good weights for twins, especially a few weeks early. They won't have to be treated as premies. Oh, and if you're interested," she said with hatred she didn't even bother to try to disguise, "they're taking out the tumor. So far Barb's holding her own, but it's touch-and-go. It's major surgery, but at least now she has a chance. No thanks to you." She turned her back on him. She couldn't stand to see him.

"When can I see them?" Jack demanded as he stalked after her. "I want to see them."

"You can see them in the nursery. The pediatricians have finished examining them, and they'll be sleeping soundly for a number of hours before they wake up to eat. You can see them through the glass." She walked away without turning back. She didn't tell him that they were settled in, and that there was no reason he couldn't hold them yet. She wasn't about to. She'd make him wait.

Jack stood there, thrilled yet empty. The babies were fine. He had twins. It sounded strange. They had twins. But Barbara had no right to them.

Chapter 30

He just stared through the glass at the tiny boy and girl lying in their basinettes, one with a pink knitted cap, the other with blue. His son was already asleep while his sister seemed to stretch and yawn. Jack couldn't believe how tiny they were, or how much he already loved them. "I'm going to take care of you," he whispered through the glass. "I'll be there for you. I'll never leave you. You'll always be able to count on me." He refused to let Barbara into his thoughts. Men had raised babies without mothers before. He would be able to do it. They would be fine without her.

Kim touched him on the shoulder and brought him out of his reverie. "Dad, they're beautiful," she said of her half-brother and -sister. "They're gorgeous. We're so happy for you and Barbara."

Jack looked at her and smiled. "Yes, they are beautiful. I haven't been this happy since the day you were born. But Barbara isn't part of this. Not anymore."

The look on Kim's face didn't convey all of her surprise. "What do you mean, Dad? How can she not be part of this? She's their mother. She just gave birth to them."

"Barbara is in surgery. They're removing a brain tumor. They don't know if she'll live, or what she'll be like after the operation."

"A brain tumor? My God! What happened? Is that what caused all this? No wonder she..." Kim paused, thinking of what Barbara had done, what she'd tried to do, understanding, as her father did not, that everything had been beyond Barbara's control. But why did her dad sound like this?

"I'm sure she'll be fine. She has you and the babies to live for now. She'll get better. She'll be fine. Just being home with all of you will make all the difference."

"She's not coming home, Kim. Not to my home. Not with the babies. She tried to kill them., and I'm not going to let her come anywhere near them. She lost all rights to be with them when she tried to murder them. She's going to have to take care of herself." Jack said this vehemently. Kim was too shocked to say anything.

Chase spoke up. "Jack, she's your wife. How can you not take care of her? You love her, you know you do. This doesn't make sense, this isn't you. You've never shirked your responsibilities, and I can't believe you'd start now."

"Frankly, Chase," Jack said," I don't care what you believe. Or you, either," he said to Kim. "This is between Barbara and me. And the rest of you, all of you, can stay the hell out of it."

He walked away, back to the waiting room. He had been told that he could give the babies bottles when they awoke. It wouldn't be much longer.

Bobby tracked him down there a while later. "Barbara came through the surgery, Jack. She's in recovery. They were able to remove the entire tumor. It's benign, and they're sure they got it all. They think she'll make a full recovery. And most importantly the psychosis is over. The tumor was the cause of the problems, Jack. Not the PTSD and not the depression, those were the result of the attacks, the kidnapping. But they can be safely dealt with by anti-depressants and therapy. The other problems, the lack of responsiveness, the suicide attempt, the seizure, those were all because of the tumor. They're all gone now. She's all right, Jack. Barbara's all right. She'll be the woman she used to be."

Jack looked at Bobby with unbelievable disinterest. Bobby might as well have been talking to Jack about a house plant. Jack's total lack of love and concern for Barbara could not have been more evident. Bobby knew he was looking at a different man than the one he'd thought he knew.

Jack lay awake that night thinking of the babies, remembering how it had felt to hold them, to give them their bottles, recalling how tiny fingers had closed over his own, how little heads had nuzzled against his shoulder when it was time for them to go back to sleep. The feeling of holding these little lives was indescribably wonderful, and not something Jack would ever give up. Nor would he share it. Not with anyone. Certainly not with Barbara.

He was aware that the other side of the bed was empty, but it didn't upset him. She didn't deserve to be there, not in his bed, not in his house. She had caused him nothing but grief and fear and pain, and there was no reason for him to live with it anymore. He had the babies, and that was enough. She would have to fend for herself from now on. If she couldn't, well, that was her problem.

Chapter 31

Lainie was sitting beside her when Barbara awoke the next morning. She was still groggy from the anesthesia and painkillers, but alert enough to realize that the swelling of her belly was gone. "The babies?" she whispered. "What happened to the babies?"

Lainie told her of the brain tumor, and how she had delivered the twins, safely, the day before. Tears of pure joy poured down her cheeks as Barbara learned that she was a mother. Lainie didn't want to tell her about Jack. She didn't have the heart.

"When can I see them?" was Barbara's immediate question. "When can I hold them?"

Lainie realized that she couldn't keep the truth from her. Barbara would have to be told.

"Jack took them home this morning. The pediatrician discharged them. They're in perfect health."

"So soon? When can I leave, Lainie? I want to go home. I want to be with them."

"Not yet, Barb. Not only are you recovering from a C-section, but you just had brain surgery. You can't leave for four, five days, maybe even more. You could start to hemorrhage, and that would be fatal. I can't possibly discharge you."

"Will you call Jack and ask him to bring the babies? I have to see them, Lainie. I have to hold them. And I want to nurse." She and Jack had discussed it, and they had agreed that it would be best for the babies to breastfeed. But they had decided that each would get a bottle of formula each day, so that Jack could have the closeness of feeding them.

Lainie didn't know what to say. Barbara was confused by the look on her face. "What's wrong? What's going on? Something's happening, Lainie. What's wrong with the babies? What is it?"

"Nothing's wrong with the babies. It's Jack. I don't know, Barb. He seems to have...snapped. He's very angry at you. He said he doesn't want to see you. And I don't think he'll bring the babies back."

Barbara was speechless. She looked at Lainie as she tried to process what she had heard. "I..I..."

She fell silent. Finally Lainie continued. "We don't know what happened. Bobby tried to talk to him, but he couldn't get anywhere. Jack won't listen. He said he won't let you see the babies."

Barbara started to cry, in complete shock. "He can't mean that," she said. "How can he do that? That isn't Jack. He'd never do that. He loves me! Why would he do this? He'd never keep the babies from me!"

Lainie had no answers. "Barb, you have to get your strength back. Then you can fight him on this. You have to give yourself a chance to recover first, your body's been through hell. It's your first day post-op, and you're recovering not just from the section but from neurosurgery. We have to keep you calm. An increase in your blood pressure will be extremely dangerous for you. I'm going to sedate you now, keep your pressure down, let you get some sleep. We'll talk again later."

"Wait, Lainie. I have to...I can't wait. I have to do this now. Call Dan Brody. He's a lawyer friend of mine. He specializes in this kind of thing. Ask him to come see me. I...I'll have to take Jack to court. I have to get my babies back." Her tears were coming harder, and Lainie knew she had to calm her immediately.

"I'll call him as soon as I give you some meds to get you to relax. I'll have him come see you this afternoon. Okay?" She smiled to reassure her friend, but she knew it wouldn't help. Nothing would help after a morning like this.

Barbara could only nod, a feeling of helplessness overwhelming her. "Just call Dan."

"I will. After I get you the sedative."

Barbara stared at the ceiling as Lainie left, not even aware when she came back and the new medicine was injected.

Chapter 32

The hearing on Barbara's petition was scheduled for five days later. Lainie hadn't wanted to discharge her so soon, but Barbara had insisted. The court officer noticed how pale she was as she walked into the well of the courtroom, still not walking fully upright because of the caesarean, and her head was swathed in bandages from the surgery to remove the tumor. Barbara was very aware of her appearance, and it upset her greatly; she didn't look like she could care for her babies, but she hoped that her friend, a pro in family law, could convince the court that, in this case at least, appearances were deceiving.

Before the court date Lainie had explained to her, gently, that she had tried to take her life. Barbara had no recollection of that day in the ocean; her actions had been caused by the tumor, and it had also kept her from remembering anything from that time. Hearing what she had done, that she had tried to kill the babies as well as herself, almost destroyed her, but Lainie and the psychiatrist Barbara had seen after the rapes talked to her, and they tried to reassure her that her behavior was solely the result of the tumor. They reminded her of the PTSD and depression, and that they were sure that with medication she'd be as mentally healthy as ever. They told her that there was no further danger. But Barbara was so shocked at what she had done that the reassurances didn't count for much. She knew that what she had tried to do could well cause a judge to agree that she was unfit.

Jack and his lawyer entered the courtroom. After a quick glance he refused to look at Barbara, contenting himself with glaring at her lawyer. Jack had seen Lainie and Bobby in the corridor, there to give Barbara moral support, but they had to wait there, for family proceedings like these were closed to the public, and no one was permitted in the spectator section of the courtroom. The large room was imposing, with the judge sitting high on the bench, removed from the people before him, and Barbara looked lost there, insignificant, not someone capable of showing her usual competence. She totally lacked self-confidence, an irony that Jack realized, for Barbara usually commanded respect in her natural milieu, and it was that very professionalism that had enabled her to win Jack his freedom. He no longer felt grateful to her. Now she was just a litigant like any other, not in control as she usually was in that setting. She looked helpless, and Jack hoped she was.

Also in the corridor with Lainie and Bobby were Barbara's psychiatrist and the neurosurgeon who had removed the brain tumor. Jack knew they would claim that Barbara was fully recovered, but he didn't believe it. He didn't think the judge would, either, especially considering how terrible Barbara looked. Like death warmed over. Certainly not capable of caring for infants.

As the judge entered the marble and paneled courtroom Jack stood along with the others, looking at the man, wondering if he would be sympathetic to him. He knew that all would feel compassion for Barbara, but he hoped that wouldn't prevent the judge from seeing that Barbara was unfit.

"I've read the affidavits, gentlemen," the judge said to the lawyers. "I'm prepared to hear from your experts."

The first witness was Barbara's neurosurgeon. As he walked to the witness box the young man exuded an air of cockiness, and Jack thought it was off-putting. Certainly not something a judge could like, Jack thought; he wouldn't appreciate being lectured by the younger man, no matter how good he looked in his expensive European suit. Jack thought he looked like a spoiled brat who would have a temper tantrum if challenged.

The doctor testified about the brain tumor, giving his opinion that it had caused her behavior changes and would not recur. For all that he appeared confident, his testimony was dry and technical, and despite the man's attempts at charm Jack didn't think it would carry much weight. He was Barbara's doctor, after all, and of course he would testify in her favor. He was sure the judge would realize that.

Barbara's lawyer called her psychiatrist as his next witness. She was a tall, slender woman in her mid-fifties, her blonde hair not yet showing signs of gray. She was well-dressed in a wine-colored suit, and looked very competent and confident as she sat in the box next to the judge.

After Barbara's lawyer questioned her about her qualifications the doctor told the judge of the ordeal Barbara had barely survived. She started with the abduction, the torture, the multiple rapes, how Barbara was buried alive. She explained the diagnoses of PTSD and clinical depression, and how her torture at the hands of her kidnappers had triggered those conditions. She described Barbara's fight to get well, to overcome all that she had endured, and how she had made tremendous progress.

Next she told the judge of Barbara's sudden plummet from recovery, the suffering, the loss of hope, the suicide attempt, the despair, until the discovery of the brain tumor. Then she spoke of her breathtaking recuperation, her return to reality, her excellent mental health. She told the judge that Barbara was now taking anti-depressants and had responded well to them, even in so short a time, as well as could be hoped, and that she no longer had symptoms of depression, despite the awfulness of what Jack was subjecting her to. The doctor told the judge that Barbara was upset, yes, but no more so than any new mother would be under the circumstances if her babies were taken from her, and this wasn't clinical depression. This was the natural result of Jack's cruelty. She further explained that Barbara would be able to live a normal, healthy life, and was totally, perfectly capable of caring for her babies.

When she finished she sat back expectantly, awaiting Jack's lawyer's cross-examination. It started right away.

"Doctor," he asked, "what was Mrs. Bauer's state of mind when she tried to kill herself and her children?"

"She was not able to comprehend what she was doing, and she had no control over her actions," the doctor responded. "The tumor caused her to try to end her own life; she was not trying to hurt her babies."

"How is that possible? Wasn't she aware that she was pregnant?"

"Of course she was," the doctor replied. "Consciously. But she wasn't thinking in those terms. What drove her to it was the tumor. The babies weren't in her consciousness."

"Do you mean she was insane?"

"That's not a psychiatric term," the doctor responded icily.

He tried again. "Was she able to take care of her children?"

"Then?" the doctor asked. "She didn't have children then."

"And she wouldn't have them now if it wasn't for Mr. Bauer," the lawyer said.

"Objection!" Barbara's lawyer said. "Counsel is testifying."

"Sustained," the judge said. "I won't have any more of that."

"Sorry, your Honor," Jack's lawyer said, not sorry at all. He was sure he'd made his point.

"You testified that she no longer has any symptoms, Doctor. Can you guarantee that the suicidal behavior won't return?" he continued.

"No, I can't guarantee anything," she replied after a pause. "No one can. But the tumor's been removed, and that was what caused her to act as she did. It won't recur. And the depression didn't cause her behavior, the tumor did. As for the depression we have a lot of experience with the medication she's taking, and it's safe and reliable. There's no reason to think that the depression will return." She paused again. "And that's not what caused the suicide attempt. That was only the tumor."

"But you can't guarantee it. Can you guarantee that she won't try again to kill the children?"

The doctor paused again. "No, I can't." She took a breath. "But it's not likely. As I said, the tumor won't recur, and that was what caused her attempt suicide. Not the depression. So it's not at all likely that she'll try again."

"'Not likely' is gambling with their lives, isn't it? It's taking a terrible chance."

"Barbara loves those babies. As much as any mother loves her children."

"That's not the question, Doctor," he said. "The only issue is whether she can be trusted with them. And you can't guarantee the depression won't return. Can't depression lead to suicide attempts?"

"Yes, when untreated, it can. But Barbara's being treated properly, with appropriate medications and therapy. These medications work. She'll be fine."

"Is 'she'll be fine' a guarantee? Can you guarantee she won't again try to kill herself? Or the babies?"

"No," the doctor reluctantly allowed.

"So a woman who may try to kill her babies certainly can't be trusted with them. She obviously isn't a fit mother."

"Objection!" Jack's lawyer said, jumping to his feet. "That's not a question. Counsel is testifying again." But the damage had been done.

Barbara knew exactly what had happened. The judge had been told by Barbara's own doctor that she would always be a threat to her children. There was no way she could overcome that. She had lost.

Chapter 37

She sat in the rocker trying to make sense of what was happening, but she couldn't. She hadn't been able to accept that Jack had turned on her the way he had, and now she couldn't believe that he had changed back. He had found the perfect way to torture her. He must know it. Let her get her hopes up, and she was sure he would make them come crashing down. He would call his lawyer in the morning, tell him that she had refused to leave, that she hadn't obeyed the judge's order, that she couldn't be trusted with the babies even when Jack was there. Still, she couldn't leave. Nothing could make her leave.

As she heard her son start to stir she experienced something marvelous. She started lactating, breast milk soon soaking her bra. It was the 'let-down' reflex, something she'd read about in all the books she'd devoured during her pregnancy: breast milk would start flowing in anticipation of a baby needing to nurse. Barbara hadn't thought it possible. The babies were six - no, seven - days old now, and they had never nursed. She thought all of her breast milk had dried up, but she was mistaken. Her body had not accepted that she wouldn't be allowed to have her babies. It was still ready to provide for them.

She cried as she realized what was happening, but she knew she couldn't nurse. She was afraid of Jack's reaction, of what he would do if he found out. As it was she knew she was in grave danger of him taking the babies away from her forever; nursing them would only make things worse. She couldn't chance it. Reluctantly, with anguish, she walked to the kitchen to prepare their bottles, wishing that her body could give them sustenance instead. But it was too dangerous. It would be another thing Jack would use against her.

Jack heard her walk by the bedroom, heard her in the kitchen, heard her croon to the babies as she fed them. He went into the nursery unnoticed, his heart bursting with love as he watched his family. He was going to make things right.

When the bottles were finished and the babies had been burped Barbara stood to return the sleepy infants to their cribs. As she turned away Jack saw her soaked blouse.

"What's that, Barb? What's all over your shirt?"

"It's nothing, Jack. I..I..it's nothing."

"It's covering your breasts. What happened?"

She sighed. She didn't want Jack to know about this. She was afraid of his reaction. It was another biological bond between her and the babies, and she knew it would just be another thing Jack would hate her for.

"It's the 'let-down' reflex, Jack. Breast milk flows when a baby gets hungry." He had read about it, too. In the happier times, in the beginning of her pregnancy, they had pored over the books together, wanting to learn all they could about the wonder they were about to know.

He was silent for a moment. "You mean you can still nurse them?"

She didn't want to answer, but she knew she couldn't escape it. "Yes, I seem to still be lactating. But I gave them bottles, Jack. I didn't nurse."

He heard the defensiveness in her voice. "Barb, I know it's late, but we have to talk. This can't wait."

"All right," she said, willing to do whatever he said to keep him from throwing her out. She'd do anything not to upset him.

"Let's go into the den," he said, and after she adjusted the babies' blankets he led her downstairs. Jack sat where he usually did, in a club chair, but Barbara sat stiffly on the couch, not in the recliner she had spent so many nights in when she was recuperating from her oread. Jack saw her fear.

"I know you're afraid, Barb. You're afraid of me, of everything I've done, of what I might do."

He looked at her for a response, but all he saw was fear. When she didn't speak he continued.

"I don't know what happened. I only know this is where you belong. I'm calling the lawyer in the morning. I want the judge to cancel his order. You should be with the babies. More than me."

He paused again, and tears started streaming down his cheeks. "I love you, Barb, and yet I've done everything possible to hurt you, as much as I could. I don't understand it, and I understand that you must hate me." He got up. "You stay with them. I'll call you in the morning."

She watched him go, more confused than ever. She heard the front door open and close. Then she walked back upstairs to the nursery.

Chapter 38

She lay down on the bed in the guest room, not comfortable about staying in the master bedroom although it was 'her' room as much as it was Jack's, but she knew she would have to walk on eggshells. She was still afraid of rocking the boat, afraid that Jack would turn on her yet again, and she would do everything to prevent it. Otherwise he would take the babies away. Again, and maybe forever.

The next morning she bathed them, enjoying the closeness, soaping their little bodies, gently rinsing them, seeing them really look at her for the first time. When they were powdered and diapered and dressed she took them into the den and sat on the couch, holding one in the crook of each arm, taking turns kissing them. The bliss she felt was as strong as the anguish she'd felt just the day before.

The sound of Jack's key in the lock made her tense. Which Jack would it be? She was afraid to find out. But he was smiling as he walked into the room.

"How's my family?" he asked. "My girls and my boy?"

She looked at him, still afraid. She didn't believe this was real, and she didn't know how to react. What would trigger his anger? What would make him mad? What would make him throw her out? What would make him take the babies?

"We're fine," she said tentatively. She was afraid to say more.

"I called my lawyer this morning, Barb. He said he's having the judge vacate the order from yesterday. I guess that means he's canceling it. Am I right?"

"Yes," she said. "It'll cancel the order."

"He said he'll do it right away, and he'll have your lawyer call to confirm it and call you afterward. It should be this afternoon. I hope that'll be okay."

"Of course," she answered, too wary to let her excitement show. She still believed that things could only turn out badly.

He paused, looking at her, looking at their children, resting so naturally in his wife's arms. It looked so right. "Barb, I went to see the doctor this morning."

He saw the quizzical look on her face, which he had expected. "I saw the psychiatrist I saw after you were attacked. I need to find out what's going on, why I did what I did. Why I hurt you like this. I'm going to find out, Barb. And I'm going to do everything I can to make it right."

He sighed. "I can't take back all the pain I've caused you. I'd give everything if I could, but I can't. But I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. If you'll let me."

It was his turn to look at her with trepidation. She didn't know what to say.

"I'm going to see the doctor again tomorrow. And every day until I find out what happened. I'm going to do whatever it takes, Sweetheart. Just please, don't give up on me. I know you have every reason to hate me, to refuse to even listen to me, but I'm asking you to give me some time. I'll move out until I figure it out. I'll only see the babies when you say I can. Please give me a chance."

She couldn't help but hear the anguish in his voice, and despite all the pain he had caused her she knew he meant what he said. She didn't know how she knew it, but she was certain of it.

Chapter 39

They were staying in separate bedrooms again, but otherwise they adapted to the new life that having babies means for a couple. Jack continued to go to therapy, going to places in his mind he'd hoped never to have to visit again, but willing to do whatever it takes to deal with what had happened between them.

After two weeks Barbara waited in Jack's doctor's office in response to his request that she come for a joint session with Jack. She waited nervously, unsure of what was to come.

"It's ironic, but you and Jack are going through the same thing," the doctor told her. "Jack had a recurrence of PTSD. The abduction, the rape, the burial, all brought him to the brink. The suicide attempt was the trigger for another episode. Jack's mind tried to protect itself by pushing you away, so that anything bad that happened, your death especially, would be bearable to him. The refusal to consent to the removal of the tumor was the same thing. He tried to remove himself from it until after the babies were born, so that he wouldn't have to confront it if you died from the surgery. It's classic PTSD."

He paused to let her absorb this. "You of all people know what it can do. It warps your mind. When you recovered Jack's mind was able to drop its defenses and no longer work to suppress his love for you. Seeing you with the babies broke the final barrier, and let him feel his love again. That love was always there. His mind blocked it in self-defense. But it was always there."

"This has all been very hard for him to accept. He can't believe that he could have treated you so badly, that he could have been cruel to you. That's what he has to work through now. There's a lot of guilt there, and we know how good Jack is at guilt." The doctor gave a small smile. "But the love is there. It always was," he repeated. "It was a question of his mind letting him feel it again. Now he is."

Barbara looked at Jack and saw the tears coursing down his face. She believed the love was there.

Chapter 40

Their reconciliation was gradual, as Barbara again grew comfortable with Jack, losing her fear, feeling his love. Jack, in turn, showed Barbara the same tenderness he always had, enjoying the sheer pleasure of his babies, and seeing his wife with them. They spent as much time together as they could, and when their children were asleep they talked. They talked about their hopes and dreams for their babies as well as for themselves together, and they provided each other with reassurance. Jack saw Barbara recover her strength, emotional as well as physical, and knew that the woman he loved had come back to him. After everything she'd been through she was again the woman he'd seen across the net. Game, set, match, he thought.

Epilogue

Lainie hadn't immediately filed the babies' birth certificates; she was waiting for names. When they were first born Jack had picked names just because he knew that Barbara hated them, but Lainie had seen through him. She refused to put those names on the certificates. She wasn't going to let Jack get away with that, at least.

Early in the pregnancy, before all the horrors, Barbara and Jack had playfully suggested names to each other, names like Lancelot and Gueneviere, Romeo and Juliet, Adam and Eve, and such. Jack had even suggested David and Goliath, and Barbara had laughingly agreed to Goliath. More serious contenders were considered until they agreed on a pair that made them both happy. They had even picked an extra set, in case there were two of each instead of a boy and a girl.

As they sat together, Jack holding their daughter while their son nursed contentedly at his mother's breast, Jack felt a tremendous peace come over him. They were together. His family. Barbara. Jack. Thing 1. And Thing 2.

Thanks, Dr. Seuss!


End file.
